The Companionable Tales
by OctoberProject
Summary: Some of them were strangers. Some of them were friends. But they were all brought together, in one not-place, in one not-time, for reasons unknown. The only thing tying them together? The Doctor. The second annual October Project, now with more authors!
1. In the Beginning

_A/N: **The Chibi's Are Stalking Me**, **Cordelia-Lear**, **GSRgirlforever**, **Isis the Sphinx**, **Jessa L'Rynn**, **Kathryn Shadow**, **NewDrWhoFan**, **Olfactory-Ventriloquism**, **Rynne**, **SilverWolf7** and **TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel** are proud to present the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits._

Disclaimer: If we owned Doctor Who, we wouldn't be spending our time on this little project, now would we?

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

_**Chapter 1: In the Beginning**_

Today's Author: NewDrWhoFan

* * *

The room was made of shadows and warmth, heavy upholstered armchairs and a grand, rock-lined fireplace that was open on all sides. The carpet was thick and dark, the wood work heavy and dark, the chairs a contrast, being soft and pale. The decorative touches were plentiful, vivid, and soulless, their colors lending neither the room nor themselves any spirit of any kind. The plants were lush, abundant, and fake.

"Looks like a hotel lobby," observed the man who had just arrived, dark eyes flicking over the room with a quiet curiosity and a detached sort of analysis. He took in everything with his rapid perusal, even the small and startled looking woman who hovered near the fire.

"Oh, thank heavens!" the woman exclaimed, and moved toward the man, her arms akimbo and her eyes over-bright. "I was afraid I'd be all alone in this horrible place."

The man blinked. "Doesn't look too horrible," he said, looking like he considered his words carefully before he said them. "I've been in much worse, believe me." The woman gave a small sound, almost like a giggle, and the man fought off a twitch at the corners of his lips. "Mickey Smith," he added, and offered a hand.

The woman took his hand with a smallish, very warm one. "I've heard a lot about you," she said with a brilliant grin. "Mickey Smith. You used to travel with... erm. With my friend."

Mickey frowned, then. "Mutual friend, then?" he said. "Sit down, what's your name; tell me how you got here."

The girl nodded gratefully and sank into a chair in front of the fire. Mickey took one near her and dragged it a bit closer. "I'm Isleen. I was traveling. Well, the last thing I remember was... I think the Doctor and Bob were..."

Mickey stopped her. "Take a deep breath, you're a complete wreck," he said. "Are you always this jittery?"

"Well, no, but the Doctor's not here, I've looked. And he's always around when there's trouble, only he isn't this time. And this place just goes on and on, no changes whatsoever. It's completely dull." The woman frowned then, and looked up at Mickey. "It reminds me of Bob's room on the TARDIS. I was on the Bridge with them - the Doctor, and Bob, I mean. I think they were arguing."

Mickey tapped a finger to his lips, thoughtfully. "All right. Something doesn't sound quite right. Why don't you tell me about this Bob person?"

"It wasn't too long after I'd first met the Doctor, we went to—well, I shouldn't really say, should I?" She laughed a bit uncomfortably. "Okay, well, it was a beautiful planet to look at from the TARDIS. Not the planet itself, but the sky. You could see the stars during the day, because there was hardly any atmosphere. It had been ripped away, he'd said, by a meteor...."

* * *

Isleen was amazed. It was sunset, and there were the usual clouds catching the light. But in between were constellations and galaxies.

"How far out can we go?" she asked the Doctor.

"Just a few feet," he answered, "but don't worry. The TARDIS will tell you before you go too far."

They stepped out onto the surface of the planet. Isleen was surprised at how dusty the ground was. But the view was spectacular.

The Doctor was trying to show her where her home was in the stars, but he stopped suddenly. His eyes were scrunched up like he was in pain.

"What's wrong," she asked.

He held up his hand as if he were listening, then gasped as his eyes flew open. "Someone's here," he told her. "Someone who shouldn't be, and they're in trouble."

Isleen followed the Doctor back inside the TARDIS, watching as he steered the ship, following the mental call. He rushed to the doors as soon as they landed, hardly sparing his companion a glance, so urgent the force in his mind must have been.

The Doctor stopped after only a few paces beyond the TARDIS threshold.

They were in a cavern. It was lit by artificial light, but Isleen guessed they were underground on the same planet. And they were by no means alone. At least a hundred green, humanoid aliens were gathered there, surrounding what looked like an operating table.

Isleen hid behind the Doctor, hanging onto his cloak. She knew she'd already been seen, but she felt like she needed his protection.

"Doctor, what is it?" she asked. "It feels… it feels strange."

"They're psychic," the Doctor told her. "It's a psychic attack, and it's all being directed there."

Aside from those closest to the TARDIS, the aliens were focused intently on the table. Isleen could see a lone figure there, seemingly human, weakly struggling against his shackles.

"Can you do something?" Isleen asked the Doctor. Granted, she didn't really know the situation, but the odds just didn't seem fair.

"I am doing something," the Doctor told her. He hadn't moved or spoken a single word to the aliens, but they were gradually turning away from the table to focus on him. "Get in the TARDIS and shut the doors," he said quietly, handing Isleen his TARDIS key.

"Watch the scanner, and don't open the doors again unless I come alone. Or, just me and him," he added, nodding towards the table.

* * *

"…I waited in the TARDIS for what felt like hours," Isleen said, staring at the floor, lost in her memory. "From what I saw, the Doctor didn't say a single word the entire time he was out there, but eventually the green aliens moved aside for him and just let the Doctor take their prisoner away."

She shook herself, and looked around at the dull but comfortable room. "Well, anyway, that's how we met Bob," she said. Then, laughing, added, "That wasn't his real name, of course. But he'd never had a spoken name before. 'Bob' was the Doctor's idea, and it stuck.

"They never did tell me what happened, how the Doctor saved Bob. But the Doctor must be an amazingly powerful psychic." Isleen looked at Mickey with a question in her face, as if seeking confirmation. "Bob was raised on a world of psychics, but even he was no match for his captors. The Doctor faced them all on his own."

"Amazing."


	2. Parallel Problems

_A/N: The **Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7** and **TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel** are proud to present the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits._

Disclaimer: If we owned Doctor Who, we'd all be living the high life - or as high as one can live life in Cardiff.

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

_**Chapter 2: Parallel Problems**_

Today's Author: TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel

* * *

"Amazing."

"I know," said Isleen, a completely adoring, star-struck smile on her face. "He really is completely fascinating."

"No, I meant the effect he has on you lot."

Isleen's face creased into a frown, the first true frown Mickey had seen. "What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"You're blonde," Mickey said and brushed it off, "maybe it doesn't apply to you." Getting up to wander over the room, Mickey set about looking, at least casually, for a way out.

"I'm not sure what my hair color has to do with anything," she said indignantly.

"He's a sucker for blondes," Mickey replied. "But he's still the Doctor. It's never gonna go like you think it will."

Isleen glared, now. "The Doctor is my friend," she said.

"Right. Let me tell you 'bout his best friend, shall I? Tell you about her, and what it was like when she wasn't anymore."

* * *

Mickey woke up in a cell. "What the hell?" he groaned. His head hurt.

"I knew this was gonna be a bad day," Rose muttered from where she was sprawled next to him.

"Every day's a bad day for you," Jake muttered.

Mickey couldn't help but agree with that statement.

He could understand Pete's reasoning, putting Rose on his team. After all, he was the only person she knew in Torchwood, apart from her not-Dad, and she was going through some kind of grieving process, stuck in a parallel world away from the Doctor and everything she'd known. All the same, Mickey wasn't sure that putting Rose and him together was the best idea.

He glanced at her.

Right now Rose was looking less than happy, and kind of un-Rose like. This was mostly because she had chosen to go without her usual bright lipstick and masses of mascara and eyeliner, opting for lip-gloss and a mere swipe of mascara instead. Mickey hadn't seen Rose without her amazing use of makeup since she was eleven. Putting it on was the first thing she did in the morning, and taking it off was the last thing she did at night. Without it, her eyes looked smaller, and her face grave.

Mickey hadn't ever noticed how solemn Rose looked when she wasn't smiling.

"Jake," he said, because they needed to work together, even if Rose _was_ a bit sulky around her colleagues.

Jake heard the warning in Mickey's voice and shut up.

"Maybe I got a good reason," Rose shot back, as she got to her feet. Jake glanced at Mickey, but Mickey shook his head.

_Let it go._

Rose walked around the cell, looking at the walls and ceiling, at the floor.

"Right," she said confidently, coming to a stop in front of the door. "We need to find a way out."

Mickey felt the urge to groan.

Rose was good at dealing with tricky situations, he knew that. Unfortunately, so did she. She was used to winging everything, after travelling round with the Doctor for so long. The words 'diplomacy,' 'caution,' or 'plan' didn't come into it.

Mickey and Jake exchanged glances.

"Did you _read_ the employee manual?" Mickey demanded, trying not to sound too accusing.

"I had a look through it," Rose tried to deflect the question.

"Did you get to the part about proper procedures for when you're kidnapped?" Jake put in skeptically.

"All right, maybe not," Rose conceded, "but…"

"Rose." Mickey didn't really want to have this all out now, not when they were sitting in a cell god knows where, but he had to try and get it through her head. "This is Torchwood. You can't just go about, making things up as you go. That's not how it works."

Rose glared at him.

"An' what's wrong with what I said? We're in a cell." Her voice indicated that what she was saying was obvious, and maybe that he was stupid. "First thing we should be doing is trying to get out."

"Jake," Mickey said resignedly. "You wanna tell Rose what the manual says?"

"According to section three of the manual, 'Proper Procedures For When Kidnapped by Possible Hostiles,' " Jake recited, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back against the cell wall, "the first steps any Torchwood personnel should take are to determine the location of the rest of the team and their status, assess their surroundings and ascertain whether or not they are in any immediate danger, and then establish precisely what events occurred before being kidnapped and attempt to work out how it happened."

"Once you've done that, _then_ you take a look for possible exits, including any traps or security that might've been set up to stop you getting out, like lasers or electrifying you or something if you try to open the door," Mickey concluded.

Rose flushed, and shot them a look filled with resentment and sullen anger.

"Whatever," she muttered, sitting back down and crossing her arms as she leant back against the wall. Quieter, "the Doctor wouldn't have had a problem."

"Yeah well your precious Doctor isn't here, is he?" Jake snapped, at the end of his tether. "There's just us, and as far as Torchwood's concerned you're a right pain in the arse!"

"That's enough," Mickey ordered, as Rose blanched white, then flushed crimson

"Are you saying I'm useless?" Rose's voice was rising in pitch and volume, and she was completely ignoring Mickey. It was disturbingly like Jackie.

"That's exactly what I'm saying!" Jake exploded. Normally Jake followed orders fairly scrupulously, but he had a well-developed 'stick it to the man' streak, and when this was strongly roused – whether he was actually sticking it to 'the man' as such, or, as now, merely calling out someone over their perceived 'elitist worldview'– he'd do whatever he felt like. "Except that we could handle useless, right enough, but you're worse than useless, _waltzing_ into trouble and ignoring everything but yourself and putting the rest of us in danger when you aren't just pissing us off!"

Rose had gone white again.

"_Right that's it, shut up now!_" Mickey bellowed. "Jake, stop insulting Rose, we gotta job to do, try an' stay professional about it. Rose, think about whatever you remember from the manual, and remember that we're a team, not just a bunch of people following you around to see what the Doctor would do."

Rose bit her lip, and looked mutinous. She was still white though, and strangely, Mickey felt sorry for her. It wasn't her fault she'd spent the last couple of years skipping at the Doctor's heels instead of growing up. Come to that, it wasn't the Doctor's either. He was an alien, no matter how human he looked, and how could he be expected to know what effect him and that life would have on her? Besides, the bloke was mental. Sometimes Mickey had suspected, pretty shrewdly for him, that even the other Time Lords would have thought so.

"Right then," Mickey continued, "since we're all okay and don't seem to be in any immediate danger, anyone remember what the hell happened before we woke up in cell?"

Jake shook his head.

"I haven't got a clue. I think someone conked me over the head with something, but that's about it."

"There was a bloke," Rose offered, a little tentatively, determinedly trying not to show how much Jake's remarks had hurt her. "He was standing in an alley, and there was something off about him, so I called out to him. Next thing he sort of… I dunno, stung me or something."

Mickey sighed.

"I was hit round the head too," he told them. "Guess we found the source of the signal."

Rose turned to look at the door, eyes searching for anything that looked dangerous or helpful.

"Just looks like a normal cell door to me," she said.

"Has anyone got any kit on them that we might be able to use to open it?" Jake asked, going through his pockets. "Gits stole our comms."

Rose gave a little naughty, mischievous smile.

"What've you done now?" Mickey asked warily.

Rose pushed her chest out and plunged a hand down the front of her shirt. Mickey and Jake's eyes bugged out.

"Whoa," Jake said, eyes glued to Rose's chest. It was more the way she was so unabashed about it than anything else.

Rose gave a little wiggle, stuck her hand down further, and yanked.

There was a slight ripping sound, and Rose pulled out a slim black pen, with sticky tape attached to it. It had clearly been taped to her skin.

Rose tilted the pen and Mickey saw that one end was a familiar blue hemisphere.

"Is that pen sonic?" he asked incredulously.

Rose grinned, a full-on grin that he hadn't seen lately.

"Yep." She sent him a naughty, half-guilty look. "I found it, when we busted those conmen last month."

"No more nicking things," Mickey told her.

"You stole evidence?" Jake demanded indignantly. Then his face relaxed into a grin. "Alright, I know it's inconsistent of me, after just telling you off, but I'd've done the same myself. I've seen that sonic screwdriver the Doctor's got." He leaned in for a closer look. "Reckon it'll get us out?"

"Yep." Rose glanced at Mickey. "Want me to try it?" she asked, a little sarcastically.

"Looks like it's the best option," Mickey agreed.

Rose pulled the strip of tape off the pen and flicked it onto the floor, before pointing the device at the door mechanism. There was a familiar high-pitched sound, and the door slid open.

Mickey peered into the hallway, Jake following suit, before gesturing them all forward.

It was all clean and white, even the smooth linoleum. Machinery hummed somewhere. Whatever was going on, Mickey deduced, it was probably big.

They continued moving down the hallway until they found a window. Rose sonic-ed it, and Jake forced it open and stuck his head out.

He moved back, and Mickey and Rose looked out as well. They were three floors from the ground. There was a drainpipe nearby, though, within arm's reach.

Mickey looked at Jake and Rose. He was too heavy, and not agile enough anyway. Jake might have been able to do it, although Mickey wasn't sure, but he was probably too heavy as well. Rose, though…

"If we helped you out, could you get down that drainpipe?"

Rose blinked in surprise, and glanced out the window. "It'd be a bit difficult, yeah, but I think so."

"Right. When you get to the bottom, go for the nearest payphone and let Torchwood know what's going on. Any of us got change?"

After some searching, they managed to scrape together just enough loose change to make a call. Rose stuck the coins in her jacket pocket and zipped it up.

She turned to the window, and climbed up onto the window, where she sat, calculating how best to get to the drain pipe.

Rose slung one leg back into the hallway, pulling the other back up into the window frame, and began untying her shoe. She threw it out the window, watched it land on the concrete below, and threw her sock after it. She did the same for the other foot.

"Right," she told Jake and Mickey, trying valiantly to keep her voice from wavering, "I need the two of you to swing me across to the drainpipe so I can grab hold. Think you can do that?" Her eyes showed how nervous she was.

"No problem," Mickey agreed.

Rose backed out the window, holding tightly to Mickey and Jake's arms. They in turn had firm grips around one of Rose's forearms. They lowered her down, until her torso slid over the windowsill, and Rose let her grip on the edge of the window go.

"Bloody hell, you weigh more than you look," Jake grunted, as Rose dangled.

"Hurry up," she panted urgently.

"On three," Mickey managed. "One, two, three!"

Rose was swung. She managed to get one leg and arm around the pipe, then the other leg, her toes gripping the metal a bit like a lizard's, and her knees bracing against the brick wall. "Leggo!" Rose gasped out, and as the men loosened their grip, grabbed desperately for the pipe with her one remaining free hand. She curled her body around the pipe, hugging it tightly, arms wrapped around it and knees pointing outward as her feet gripped the metal well enough to stop her sliding down.

Mickey and Jake peered out the window with concern as she took several deep breaths, before beginning to shimmy slowly down the pipe. Near the bottom, she leaped down and, collecting her shoes, shoved her feet into them and took off to ring for reinforcements.

After that, it was mostly over. The military division that was sometimes lent out to Torchwood stormed the place, after agents carefully staked the place out. The aliens were captured, and Torchwood began the process of dismantling the place, while Mickey and Jake headed back to headquarters to be checked over and give their reports.

Later, Mickey found Rose sitting by a window, a printed copy of the employee manual sitting face down and open on her lap, staring out at the stars with a distant look.

"Hey," he greeted her softly.

"I've been reading the manual," she offered, still staring out at the sky.

"I can see that."

"I guess it makes sense why I might've been getting on people's nerves," Rose muttered. She always muttered if she wasn't happy about what she was admitting. "It's like, a civilian swanning around with a bunch of cops, isn't it?"

"It's not that you're not good at dealing with aliens," Mickey clarified. "You just gotta do it the Torchwood way."

"I miss him." It burst out of Rose as though she hadn't meant to say it.

"Yeah." Mickey knew exactly which 'him' she was talking about.

"I'm trying Mickey, I really am, it's just… I dunno what to do with myself without him. I promised him I would stay with him, forever, and I just, wasn't expecting…" Rose trailed off. "It's just hard."

"I know."

"It's like I don't know who I am anymore, now I'm not the brilliant Rose Tyler, companion to the Doctor. You know what I mean?" She turned to look at him then, and Mickey had never seen such a profound look of sadness in anyone's eyes. "He was my world, Mickey."

"I know Rose, believe me, I know. But you gotta move on, and build a new world, just like he'll be doing, you know that."

Rose didn't answer, and she was looking out at the stars again, and after a moment Mickey just turned and left her, reflecting on her alien.

Damn the Doctor, he thought. He felt a twinge of guilt, knowing how much the Doctor had done for all of them, but all the same. Was it better to lift Rose out of her old life, and make her new, and something more than before, even if it meant leaving her alone and heartbroken at the end? Mickey honestly didn't know, and supposed that it depended on whether or not Rose could ever find something to build her life around now that the Doctor was gone.

He hoped she could.

* * *


	3. To Stop the Leader

_A/N: **The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7** and **TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel** are proud to present the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits._

Disclaimer: If we owned Doctor Who, we wouldn't have to try to invent clever disclaimers without caffeine.

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

_**Chapter 3: To Stop the Leader**_

Today's Author: Cordelia-Lear

* * *

"So you see, Isleen, it's not sunshine and tea parties either traveling with the Doctor or after you're done, neither." Mickey shook his head and looked down at his watch. The digital watch numbers were frozen at all zeros.

"I see what you mean," Isleen said slowly. "Bob was saying something just the other day about that but..."

Isleen didn't look like she meant to stop talking, but she really didn't seem to have a choice, because there was a sudden, painful-sounding cry. Mickey started to his feet and Isleen immediately went to hide behind him. "Hey, don't hide behind me," Mickey complained. "I'm just the tin dog when the Doctor's around."

"Is he or are you just wishing hard?" replied a warm, familiar voice that brought a broad, brilliant smile to Mickey's face.

"Suddenly, in an unexplained hotel lobby, isolated from everything, I hear the song of a nightingale!" Ignoring Isleen completely, Mickey rushed across the lobby to greet the newest arrival.

Martha Jones didn't bother with handshakes - she hugged Mickey as if they were old friends and Mickey supposed, by now, they probably technically were. "You know, you and Jack claim to detest each other, but you use the same completely weird chat-up lines on people who are way out of your league."

Mickey chuckled and tossed a deprecating hand at the room around them. "Eh, this is the closest to a league we got at the moment, Dr. Jones. Pull up a chair."

Isleen cleared her throat pointedly, standing next to both of them and looking from one to the other expectantly. Mickey realized he was in trouble with the newest companion, which didn't bode well for when they figured out what was going on here. "This is Isleen," Mickey introduced. "Guess she's the new blonde."

"Mickey claims the Doctor has a thing for blondes," Isleen said dismissively, holding her hand out for Martha to shake.

"Martha Jones," Martha replied, taking the offered hand. "Not blonde, but I'm not getting into it." She turned and shook her head at Mickey. "Are you picking on the poor man when he isn't here to defend himself again?"

Mickey shrugged. "Eh, just telling Isleen here about what people do when the Doctor's gone," he said.

"Oh, that." Martha smiled. "Here, Isleen, sit down. You look like you're freezing - are you from somewhere hot?"

"No, nothing like that," she said. "I just... I think I'm learning stuff about him I couldn't have guessed."

The three settled into chairs near the fire again, and Martha shrugged. "Well, don't stop learning on my account," she said.

"No, but you can tell her," Mickey said. "About what people do just because they know him, stuff like that."

Martha nodded. "S'pose I could," she agreed. "But what to tell?"

Martha's smile became wan as she considered.

"I knew the Doctor when he'd… lost someone," she admitted quietly. "He was just… everything. He could smile at me and never even see me, but I didn't care because that's what I was, _who_ I was. Then it was all up to me."

"The Doctor was being held prisoner by his enemy, and there was nothing he could do to escape. The Ma—Doctor's enemy had taken control of Earth. He killed one tenth of the planet. He took my family, and he tortured them but before he could hurt me, the Doctor sent me away. Everything, the fate of the world, rested on my shoulders… And… I _think _I began to understand, a bit, what it meant—_means_—to be the Doctor."

"I traveled the world all on my own, saw things I never want to see again, I met people who will never remember the sacrifices they made, but the one story that's still with me from that time is Nozomi's."

* * *

Martha held her breath. She'd just made land fall on Hokkaido in the dead of night, and her receiving party was nowhere in sight. A soft vibration cut through the thick foggy air around her, and ran. She knew that sound. Toclafane.

Staying low to the ground, she raced forward, stumbling over her clumsy limbs, desperately searching for some form of cover. The whirring vibration grew louder, until it was nearly upon her. She closed her eyes, and braced herself for death, when a hand shot forth from the mist and pulled her into shelter.

A petite woman about the same age as Martha motioned for her to remain quiet, as the chilling whir moved on. When the beach remained silent for two minutes, the woman nodded at her, and they began creeping forward toward the interior of the island.

"You are Jones?" the woman asked, quietly, as they ducked in the bushes.

"Where's Ryugi?" Martha demanded. "I was told he'd be here with the tech I need."

"He's dead," she replied, emotionless.

Martha took a steadying breath. How many more lives were lost everyday?

"My name is Nozomi, and I am your new technical adviser."

Martha cocked an eyebrow. "It's not a title or anything. I just need help."

"Yes. And I am your help," Nozomi replied, pulling open a shed door. The room beyond was full of discarded wires and circuit boards, radios and salvaged satellite dishes. Nozomi grinned.

"How have you managed to stay hidden?" Martha said in disbelief.

"I am very, very smart."

"No, but, really. How?" Martha demanded.

"I was with UNIT, before this began. I escaped with what I could before the Toclafane came to destroy everything. I took everything the databases had on our new world leader, and I ran. Eventually, I was able to decipher the exact frequency of the Toclafane scanners, and I used this information to establish a perimeter around my home to keep them away."

"That's brilliant! We've got to get this out to everyone else!" Martha exclaimed.

Nozomi looked ashamed. "I regret… we cannot do this."

"Why?!"

"The frequency changes unpredictably. I can only work when the frequencies _I_ know are blocked."

"Nozomi, there are people out there, who need this kind of information. They could even decode the rest of the frequencies with you." Martha urged her to understand, but Nozomi shook her head.

"Jones, if I did this, sent this code out, I would reveal myself to the Toclafane, and my work would be lost. The leader would find out what I'd done. He would change everything."

Martha clenched her fists. "You can't just sit here, hiding for the rest of time! Don't you know what the leader's planning?!"

Nozomi swallowed. "I do know this. This is why I keep myself, my _work_, hidden. If I am able to complete it, I can stop this. All of this."

Martha eyed the tangle of wires and circuitry over Nozomi's shoulder. "Just what exactly were you planning?"

Nozomi took a deep breath. "A weapon. I plan to wipe out all electronic equipment in Japan."

Marths blinked. "Nozomi, nothing works as it is. How will wiping out the rest of it stop the leader?"

"You misunderstand me, Jones. It will wipe out everything in Japan, but it will also shut down every electronic pulse, even anything working in Japanese airspace."

They were silent.

"The Valiant," Martha said. _The_ _Doctor_, she thought.

A whirring cut into the strained silence between them and Nozomi held a hand up to silence her impending protest. She motioned to a pallet in a corner.

"Sleep," she whispered.

* * *

_Light and laughter, thunder and cold. Martha was lost. Lost at sea. She called out, but no one could save her. She was drowning, drowning, and the Doctor was sinking inches away from her. She was nearly to him._

* * *

"Jones." Martha woke with a start to Nozomi shaking her awake. "Jones, the frequency is right. We must complete the weapon."

She handed Martha a mug of water, and a dried cake. "I regret I cannot give you better, but I gladly share what I have."

Martha took what she offered, but could not stop herself from protesting. "Nozomi, you can't bring the Valiant down."

"But I can," she said tossing her ponytail back over her shoulder as she soldered a wire into place.

Martha clenched her fists in frustration. "Nozomi, you know who I am. You know what I've come to do."

"I do, Jones. You've come to stop the leader."

"No, Nozomi," Martha said quietly.

Nozomi sat up, and narrowed her eyes at her. "What?"

"I'm not here to stop the leader. I'm here to stop his plan. I came to Hokkaido to tell everyone about a friend of mine. My best friend. He's the only one who can stop everything, but the leader has him on the Valiant, Nozomi."

Nozomi returned to her circuitry. "Then, go. Talk. I will do. And I will stop him," she said coldly.

"Nozomi, don't you understand?! You can't!"

"I must! My family is dead! My husband is dead! My baby… my baby is dead." Tears welled up in her eyes, but she continued to work at the heap of machinery.

Martha placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry. The leader has my family, now. I don't know what he's done with them. I don't even know if they're alive… But I do know that the Doctor can help."

Nozomi dropped her work. She grabbed Martha's hands in a vice like grip. "The Doctor?"

Martha allowed herself a smile. "The Doctor."

"The Doctor is on the Valiant," Nozomi whispered. And suddenly she was stripping wiring from circuitry she'd clearly spent hours connecting. She worked at a furious pace, a new inspiration driving her forward.

"Nozomi? Nozomi, what are you doing?" Martha asked alarmed. She felt sure she could hear a soft whirring stirring in the distance.

"I am creating a new weapon," she said, still working at a savage pace.

"But you can't!" Martha demanded.

"But I can. _We_ can. This new weapon will transmit, not a destructive pulse, but your message, and my Toclafane information. The Doctor must survive. He will save us."

* * *

Martha blinked back tears. "Nozomi recorded my message—_the Doctor's message_—and sent me away. I escaped Japan hours before the main island burned. I never heard… Nozomi _can't_ have survived. It was because of her transmission that the Doctor's message got out. Nozomi helped save the world, and no one will ever know."

Martha wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "I understand, now. Better, than I did, anyway. I know how it must feel for the Doctor to continue on, while others have to die. When I realized, I needed to be with my family. I had to live my life, feel those ordinary things, and help those left behind. That's who I am, what I needed. I needed to be a doctor."

* * *


	4. Special

_A/N: **The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7** and**TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel** are proud to present the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits._

Disclaimer: If we owned Doctor Who, we would tell cool stories about characters who make you wonder. Oh, wait, we're doing that anyway. But we'd do it without disclaimers if we owned Doctor Who.

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

_**Chapter 4: Special**_

Today's Author: The Chibi's Are Stalking Me

* * *

"It's not easy to be a companion, is it?" Isleen said comfortingly to the very weary looking Martha Jones.

"No, not really," said Martha. "How long have you been with the Doctor?"

"I..." Isleen's brow crinkled. "I don't know," she admitted. "I used to think it was a very long time, but now that I get to thinking about it... all those adventures happen so very fast, some times and when they're over, you're living a whole new life."

"I once nearly died at least three times in forty-two minutes," Martha said. "Where has Mickey gone, anyway?"

"He muttered something about a noise," Isleen said. "Went off that way." She gestured vaguely to their right, then smiled back at Martha. "Did he try to keep all his secrets from you, too? I just want to know what's going on in his head..."

"No you don't," said a soft, vague, and very sweet voice. "Don't ask and he won't tell and then you won't have to know and you won't know for better or worse, either."

Martha jumped up from her seat. "Mickey Smith, where are you?" she demanded. "Answer me."

"Right here," Mickey said, charging out of the infinity and shadows of the vast and strangely cozy room. "Another blonde?" he added, seeing the newest arrival. "What is it with the Doctor and blondes, then?"

"Not just the Doctor," said Martha with a heavy sigh. "Time Lords in general, I guess." She gestured to the blonde woman hovering at the edge of the light cast by the fire place, pointing at a chair. "Isleen, Mickey, this is Lucy Saxon."

"The late PM's wife?" asked Isleen.

"Don't ask," said Martha. She rounded on Lucy. "Don't say anything about that. It's like I speak of the devil, and I get the bride of Satan. What are you doing here?"

"I don't know, Martha," Lucy answered vaguely. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I sorta thought I might be dreaming until you turned up," Martha said. "But you'd never be in one of my dreams without a straight-jacket - I know better."

Lucy smiled her broken, little girl smile. "You always assume the worst of me, Martha, and I don't know why."

"You married a sociopath of your own free will?" Martha suggested.

"She did?!" exclaimed Mickey and Isleen at the same time.

"Martha just doesn't understand," Lucy said. "I was meant to do that. I didn't have a choice."

Martha shook her head. "I don't know what you could possibly mean."

* * *

Lucy could remember how, many years ago now, she had always known she was meant for something…grand. Despite her father and oldest brother always saying she was being foolish and that she'd read too many books – the two always had agreed, it seemed, that it was still at some point in the Victorian age when it came to women – and that she should just sit down and smile and be a good little girl, the idea remained nestled in the back of her mind, whispering to her.

She'd never been sure where she'd gotten the idea.

It certainly wasn't her mother, Tacey, who would forever be held in Lucy's mind as a pale, quiet woman. Shockingly blonde hair pulled back by one beautiful ribbon or another, pale grey eyes dull and turned towards the floor of the mansion, dressed in clothes that, while lovely, seemed to make her look even smaller. There was nothing conspicuous about her, nothing that would draw someone's attention.

Her father…oh, that was nonsense. Her father, Eric, while bold and gruff, had held his two sons far above Lucy, no matter the situation. Not only that, he had often lowered her; women, as he had often said, much like children, were to be seen and not heard, and seen as little as possible. His dark eyes, so warm for her brothers, turned shallow and cold as he looked at her. She had almost been happy when…

That doesn't matter anymore.

Neither of her brothers could talk credit either. David, the eldest, had been too much like their father, too proud of being at his father's side, of being his favourite. Kevin had been quite different, nowhere near as harsh as their brother and father. She could honestly hardly remember anything about him; he had always been in the background, a silence inherited from their mother. Lucy knew he had been kind to her, but…he was just so _bland_!

Perhaps it had come from the books, after all.

Not that the rest of the world were to know just how many issues her family had. Much like the broken shards of many broken dishes, the problems were simply….swept away, hidden. In public, their father had always had a hand on their mother's arm or around her waist, both smiling fondly at each other and the world. Kevin and David had similar smiles, chatting away as if they weren't always glaring at each other from across the hallways. And Lucy….learning to smile – _correctly_ – had been part of growing up. Thinking of them now, as a collective, it reminded her of dolls; bright smiles and wide eyes, but the eyes were blank and the smile pasted on.

Lucy had hated it.

Hated _them_.

Her mother, distant and spineless. Her father, cruel and hulking. David, who strove to be just like him. Kevin, sweet and forgettable.

She had never wanted to be like them. Had fought against the maids putting the ribbons in her hair, had wondered if there was a way to be rid of the brown eyes staring back at her as easily as to change the blonde hair. Had dreamed of being swept away on a flying carpet into the stars, of walking into the yard and falling into a new world.

Maybe…that was it. What brought the voice to life and kept it whispering, echoing around in her head, never stopping. Wanting – no, _needing_ – to be different, to be something better.

To be _special_.

* * *


	5. Taking Candy

_A/N: **The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7, **and **TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel **are proud to present the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits._

Disclaimer: If we owned Doctor Who, we could stop history from repeating itself, especially when it was so hard to handle the first time!

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

_**Chapter 5: Taking Candy**_

Today's Author: GSRgirlforever

* * *

Donna Noble shoved her ginger hair over her shoulder, stalked up to Martha, and said, "Right, introduce me, then."

Martha grinned. "Oh, I _missed_ you!" she exclaimed, and leapt up from her chair to hug the taller woman. "This is Mickey, the pale lady in the white dress is Isleen, and the sociopathic toddler is Lucy Saxon."

"Thought she was locked up for life or something," Donna said, staring at Lucy in undisguised fascination. "Didn't you like have a break-down when your husband was assassinated by terrorists or something?"

"Or something," Martha said blandly. Lucy glowered at both of them, a petulant pout on her perfect, porcelain face. "Everyone, this is Donna Noble."

"Donna?!" Isleen squealed and flung herself into a hug with Donna. "Oh, I've heard so so much about you, Donna. You're a legend everywhere, its just amazing all the things you and the Doctor did together, saving the world, saving the whole universe! Ohmigod, the stories he tells about you and he said you never..."

"Does she always act like this?" Donna asked Martha sotto voce.

"No, this is kinda new," Martha whispered back. "She's a bit hyper, I guess?"

"...even hit him once!"

"My hero," Mickey said with a laugh.

Donna openly admired the muscular young man, not certain if he was her type, but really just relieved to finally see a man with some shoulders on him. "Glad to help," she said and straightened to her full height. More to the point, she straightened to her full cleavage.

Isleen started laughing, a giddy, high-pitched noise that reminded Donna of something she couldn't place. "He said something about you and feminine wiles, too, you know," said Isleen. "Said you were very impressive."

Donna rolled her eyes. "He didn't," she denied. Isleen babbled a quick about-face at being caught out, but Donna just brushed it off good-naturedly. "He underestimates the power of the bottomless cleavage." She smiled. "You remind me of him, nattering on like that," she said, frowning thoughtfully.

"Oh, he's nothing like me, I'm sure he's much more impressive and interesting and intelligent than I'll ever be and besides I think it's not really all that important, you know, what I have to say, I'm just nervous meeting all these new people, that's really all there is to it, I guess."

Donna looked at Martha, and Martha shrugged. "No, really," Donna said. "Look, lemmee tell you a story." She sat back in a newly claimed chair. "It's too gloomy in this place anyway, so I'll just perk you lot up."

* * *

Donna looked around the room with interest, hoping this time she would actually be able to relax a bit before all hell broke loose. It seemed since the time she first traveled with the man, she was paying with her sanity. The room looked benign enough, although that really never meant much either.

"There aren't any man eating shadows here are there, because if there are so help me…" she began to comment to the man emerging from the door behind her.

"No…no Vashta Nerada," he said with a roll of his eyes and like it was everyday they came across them, "but," he continued with that smile she knew she was probably going to regret, "there is a great shop just outside that door" and he pointed to their left.

Him and his propensity for shops. She gave him a good look and then headed for the door with trepidation. She opened it and then closed it quickly. Then she opened it again and looked through the small slit.

"You have got to be kidding me," she whisper yelled to him. He just smiled, grabbed the door handle, and then pulled it open. Beyond the door was a candy shop. There was no way she was going to let this man eat any kind of candy. He was hyper enough on his own. She watched as he pulled himself to the nearest counter and looked at the display.

"A candy shop? Really?" she said to him. He just nodded his head in reply. His eyes lit up when he saw something in the display. He took a sideways glance at her and then pointed to the candy in the case so the clerk could get it for him. She couldn't identify what it was, but was certain it was something she was going to regret.

It took them a good half an hour to exit the shop, and when they did Donna couldn't see anything on him except the initial bag he got. Of course with his pockets, who knew?

"What did you get?" she asked him as they were walking down the street.

"Just some jellies…" she could tell by the way he was being evasive that he was holding back.

"Just jellies?" she confirmed, giving him a skeptical eye. He adopted his "I'm innocent" look and continued to walk down the street.

Half an hour later and Donna could practically feel the energy coming off the man next to her, which was no small feat. He was energetic on a regular basis, but she could swear he was sending waves of energy around him.

Another half an hour later and Donna found herself sitting in a jail cell, looking at the Doctor, a pissed look on her face while her hands were crossed on her chest.

"Donna, I didn't know, really." He tried to plead with her. She just huffed back at him.

"How was I supposed to know they would find it offensive?" She looked at him like he had grown a new head.

"Oh, I don't know Doctor," she sneered, "I should think anyone would assume it to be a bit rude to start running around the square with their hands in the air, commenting on the fact that the monument they were circling was actually a fake representation of what really happened." She got up from her seat and began pointing at him furiously.

"Or it could have something to do with the fact that you insisted that the truth," she huffed and splayed her hands out, "as you put it 'lay within' as you began to sonic the statue. You melted the face off it!"

The Doctor cringed slightly. "I was right," he said in his defense.

Donna began to pace from one side of the room to the other, trying to calm herself down. "Oh, you were right alright…right about the fact that something 'lay within'. I'm not so sure about the truth part. What were you thinking? Oh!" she yelled into the air, stomping over to seat and plopping down once again.

"Why?" she asked after calming down.

"What?"

"Why? Why did you think the face of a statue that is considered to be the saint of the whole damn world we currently seem to be residents of needed to be melted off?" Donna had gotten back up from her seat and was once again pacing her way across the floor of the cell.

"Well?" she asked.

"Um…" was all he could come up with as a response.

"That's it! Empty them!" she yelled at him.

"Empty what?"

"Empty those pockets of yours." He began to splutter. There was no way he was going to empty his pockets. Who did she think she was, his mum?

"I'm tellin you, empty them." She said it in such a way that there was no question about what would happen if he didn't. He slid a hand in his pocket, and without looking up at her began to pull item after item out of them.

He began to pile the items on the chair in front of him, a sheepish look taking over his face. First thing to make its way out was a yoyo, followed by his psychic paper, sonic screwdriver, toothpaste, toothbrush (never know when you're going to need those), paper, pencil, string…and on and on.

"I know you're keeping something from me, keep going…" He gave a huff and placed his hands back in his pockets, his face turning a bit red from the items now coming out.

Wrappers.

Not just any wrappers. Candy Wrappers. Lots of them.

"I knew it," she seethed, "how many?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, trying to sound innocent. Trying to play it off like the growing pile in front of them wasn't happening.

"How much candy have you eaten today?" she asked. He refused to answer.

Seriously aggravated now, she began to walk over to him. He began to back away from her. She kept advancing, knowing he couldn't go far.

"You," she said through gritted teeth and a finger in his face as his back was against the wall and his hands raised above his head in surrender, "you will apologize to these people, you will fix the statue," her volume began to increase, "you will do anything they need you to do to get us out of here." He swallowed in fear as she went on. "Then," she said in a softer tone, "you will NEVER," she emphasized with a poke to his chest, "NEVER. EAT. CANDY. AGAIN."

"Oh, but that's not fa…." He cut that off short when he swore he heard her growl. "O-oh-kay," he got out, rubbing his chest where she had been poking him. She watched as he made his way over to the pile on the chair and began to pick up everything and place it back in his pockets, giving her sideways glances while he did it.

She could see the pout on his face as he did it, but he didn't comment. When he was done he did just as she asked. He managed to fix the statue, get them freed, and apologized to the people (although he sounded like a child while he was doing it). They got back to the TARDIS several hours later.

Donna looked over at him and held a hand out.

"What?" he asked.

"Hand them over."

"Hand what over?"

"I want every piece of candy you have in that jacket. NOW."

He pressed his lips together in a scowl, but began to fish the candy out.

* * *


	6. Just Improbable

_A/N: **The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7, **and **TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel **are proud to present the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits. Usually. Tonight, NewDrWhoFan is the one blessed with insomnia!_

Disclaimer: I wish we owned Doctor Who. I wish, I wish, I wish... huh. No luck. I wish, I wish, I wish....

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

_**Chapter 6: Just Improbable**_

Today's Author: SilverWolf7

* * *

"You just made that up!" Martha exclaimed, laughing heartily while Donna smirked.

"But the thing is," Donna countered, "you can't say for sure whether I did or not."

"You didn't," Lucy stated with certainty. "Everything about the Doctor is true."

"Except the things that aren't," Martha countered, even as Donna beat her with a much louder exclamation.

"Someone's been playin' with your _head_, your Ladyship," Donna explained, and Martha couldn't help nodding.

Mickey chortled, then got up from his seat. "I wonder if we can get a coffee or something 'round here. I'm gonna go look; I'm feeling a bit sleepy."

"Huh," said Martha, thoughtfully, "that's never good. I mean look, Isleen's out like a blown fuse." She looked suspiciously at Lucy. "I don't suppose your late husband managed to come back as a ghost and possess us or something?"

Donna looked at Martha like she'd lost her mind. "Does that happen?" she asked.

"I read the UNIT files on him," Martha said. "He once murdered people with plastic daffodils. For him, coming back from the dead's a hobby."

"Harry has nothing to do with this!" Lucy snapped, suddenly quite animated and rather surprisingly alive. "Harry was murdered by a psychopath, and he's dead!"

"So him coming back is impossible?" Donna asked.

Mickey reappeared with a tea-tray. "At least it wasn't the Doctor who said that," he said. "Every time that man said something was impossible, it happened. Sometimes immediately." He set down the tea tray on one of the nearby plant stands. "Isleen out then?"

"Yeah," Martha and Donna said. "We're not sure why. Did she say how she got here?"

"Could you tell me how the hell _I_ got here?" demanded a voice that at least one person in the room found marvelously familiar.

"Uh, oh," said Mickey.

The dim comfort of the lobby suddenly flashed with a light brighter than high noon on a snow field, and there was a tremendous dull crack. The whole universe seemed to shake and then open up.

"I'm gonna murder that space man," Donna breathed quietly but fiercely.

"There's a line," said that new voice, again. "And I call bags."

Like a thrown switch, the light suddenly dimmed back to its former muted glow, leaving the woken occupants blinking and temporarily blinded.

"This is bad," Lucy said. "This is not good, this is bad, there shouldn't be light, not like this, I don't like it. This is bad..." She kept repeating herself very quietly, but everyone ignored her in favor of the newest arrival.

"How in hell did I get here, and where is here, anyway?"

"Impossible," Mickey said. "Absolutely impossible."

The very heavily pregnant woman he was gaping at glowered back at him. "You quit gawking, Mickey Smith, and find me a chair. Maybe that alien's right, maybe you are an idiot."

"Oi!" Mickey protested, hurt and offended. "Now, Jackie," he began, "don't I always have your back?"

Jackie sighed as Martha very solicitously helped her to a chair. "Probably," she agreed.

"I'm a doctor," Martha said. "I think it'd be better for you and for the baby if you let me examine you. Nothing invasive, I promise, just a quick once-over to make sure you're all right."

While Martha was doing this and Donna and Mickey were collecting supplies from other sections of the strange lobby-like space, Lucy was casually tying Isleen to her chair.

"What'd you do that for?" Martha demanded, when she could finally pay attention again.

Lucy shrugged and Martha made Mickey untie the sleeping blonde when he got back with Donna and everything he could find for food, drinks, and supplies.

Jackie was telling Martha a bit about her history with the whole situation, and Martha was happily listening, when Mickey suddenly interrupted. "Oi, tell us all, Jacks," he said. "S'not like even I've heard the whole story on this one."

Jackie sighed, took a glass of fruit-juice Donna offered her, and started talking.

* * *

Life on an alternate world was hard for Jackie. She had to learn little nuances about the world, like what wasn't there when it was in her world, what was there that wasn't in her world and, even more importantly, that she no longer lived on a council estate.

The hardest thing though, was that she knew that her dead husband, while 'she' had died a year or so ago from the Cybermen, was alive and well. It was the hardest adjustment she had to go through. Even more was that he was actually popular because one of his daft schemes actually took off and became a hit.

She was rich in this world.

She was also pregnant, if the test in front of her was telling her the truth with its little pink strip.

Pregnant.

Going to have another child.

She wasn't sure she wanted another child right now. It had only been a few months since she got stuck there. She still wasn't sure if this Pete was her Pete, though they acted the same way and he was just as silly and insane as her one had been.

Another thing that worried her is that they hadn't yet had a fight. Even before being married to her Pete, they had fights often. Fights were a norm for her in her relationship with her Pete. This new Pete was like him, but older looking, and had fought often with his version of her, she knew, from the talks that they had to sort themselves out.

She rubbed at her head and looked to the doorway to the master bedroom, hearing as Pete got ready for the day.

"Pete? I think I'll stay home today. I'm not feeling too good. Tell Rose I'm sorry I won't be in."

She quickly threw the test in the bin, along with its box. Hopefully he didn't look in there and she could dispose of it before a maid come in to take out the rubbish.

"Alright, love. I'll bring home some soup if you want. I'll invite Rose over for dinner, since you won't be having lunch together." He walked over to her, rubbed her shoulders for a bit and dropped a kiss on her cheek.

"Thanks. I'd like that. Have a good day. And be careful."

"Always, Jacks. You know that by now," he replied, kissing her on her other cheek and on top of her head.

She shrugged out of his arms and frowned. "I'd like to go back to bed now, see if I can sleep this off."

He nodded, smiling at her through the bathroom mirror, and walked out of the room. After a few minutes, she heard his car leaving and sighed, picking the test back out of the garbage. Biting her lip, she quickly picked up the box too, ran out, found her car keys and went off to get another test.

She was 40 now. Close to 41. She should be reaching menopause, not pregnancy. What if she was pregnant and something was wrong with the baby? What if she lost it? What if Pete didn't want a kid?

She was way too old to have to be thinking of these things. She should be a grandmother, not a mother again. Rose was 21. Not too young to have children in her books. Still, it had only been a few months, and Rose was still feeling the separation from the Doctor all too keenly.

She didn't think she'd be having grandkids anytime soon, and a baby around the place would be a rather nice thing to have. The mansion was huge and cavernous and so empty to her. There were maids and butlers and a cook to do all the things she was used to doing on her own.

By the time she was home again, the second test done, she was just as confused and unsure as the first time she had taken one.

She wished then that Mickey was there. She would be able to talk to Mickey about it, but he was working with Pete and Rose over at Torchwood. His grandmother was in the house, probably sitting somewhere in the gardens, since she liked the smell of the flowers in bloom. But that wasn't the same thing. Not the same thing at all.

Still, she could feel excitement bubbling up inside her. It had been a while now since Rose had needed her, and it would really be good to have another person to nurture and look after.

Maybe this was exactly what she needed.

She told Pete, Rose and Mickey during dinner that night.

Pete had been ecstatic, Mickey kept on grinning at her and slapping her on the back in friendly gestures, but even better was Rose smiling truly for the first time since coming here.

The baby was definitely a good thing.

* * *


	7. Additional Archetype

_A/N: **The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7**, and**TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel **are proud to present the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits. Well... tonight, she just tacks on a bit at the end._

Disclaimer: Today, we received Doctor Who in the mail. Unfortunately, it was just an ad for the new logo, and they're not even letting us own it!

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

_**Chapter 7: Additional Archetype**_

Today's Author: Isis the Sphinx

* * *

"Well, this is certainly different."

All the heads in the hotel lobby turned to the new voice, except for Isleen, who was still asleep and had a bit of drool gathering at a corner of her mouth. "Where are we?"

"Don't exactly know." Martha shrugged. "You're Luke, aren't you?"

Luke nodded. "It's nice to finally meet you in person."

"Oi, wait a minute, I don't remember him! The rest of you seem to!"

"Sorry, Donna, can't tell ya." Mickey sighed. "Spoilers."

Jackie patted the sofa next to her chair. "Sweetheart, come sit next to me and tell us what happened."

"I had gotten into bed, rather early because Sarah Jane insists on it--even though Clyde says that I should be able to stay up longer—and had just about fallen asleep. Next thing I know, I'm here."

There were raised eyebrows, but nothing more than that. No one knew what to make of it.

"Don't you live with Sarah Jane, Luke? How'd you get mixed up with the Doctor then?" Mickey leaned forward towards Luke.

"Mixed up? What do you mean by that?"

Mickey blinked.

Luke slumped. "I'm sorry, not everyone knows that I have problems with what Sarah calls 'idioms'. But I'm working on it."

"Eh…How'd you get involved with the Doctor?"

"I haven't really traveled with him, but I've seen him a lot."

* * *

They were small, squishy, walking marshmallows, and they were everywhere.

Mr. Smith had told Sarah Jane that there was an anomaly and she had promptly gotten in the car, taking Luke with her, and driven straight toward the city, following K-9's instructions.

They had left the car an hour and five blocks back when Luke and Sarah came across a line of the things, all going in the same direction. It wasn't hard to follow the large group.

They heard his mutterings before they saw him. Speeding by, eyes glued to the device he was holding instead of where he was going, the Doctor ran by Sarah and Luke and didn't even notice them.

"Well. That settles things." Sarah said.

* * *

"She just let him handle it. Sarah Jane sometimes does, and sometimes she takes care of everything herself before the Doctor is ever involved." Luke frowned and considered.

"That must've been the Adipose," Donna said with a shrug and a shudder. "They weren't marshmallows – they were fat. Cutest fat ever, but fat."

"I thought… Even Lucy here has traveled in the TARDIS," Martha said. "As far as I know, you haven't. I'm fresh out of patterns."

Luke nodded. "But time travel eliminates the validity of the pattern recognition, Martha. I know or know of everyone here, except the lady sleeping, but most of you don't know me. I don't know her at all; there aren't even any pictures. But Sarah Jane has pictures of everyone else and even a list of people I'm supposed to run away from." He frowned. "She's on that list, actually," he added, gesturing rather discreetly at Lucy.

"As she should be," Jackie said firmly, "according to what everyone's said. You're a clever little boy." She stared at Luke intently. "You kind of look like…"

"Jackie, just don't go there," Mickey said. "Please, not right now." He turned all of his attention on Luke. "I was just noticing what you said. You were asleep, right?"

"I think so," Luke agreed.

"I think I was, too," Martha exclaimed, excited. "Donna?"

"I'd just escaped the Star-hustler for the night, yeah," she agreed. "And you probably wouldn't know where you were, would you?" she added quite hotly to Lucy.

"I'm dreaming," Lucy said honestly. "I thought you knew."

"Right," said Martha. "So we're back to the pattern. Everyone thinks they were asleep when this started."

"No, wait," said Mickey. "I forgot. She said she was awake when this started – she said something about the Doctor and his other companion having an argument."

"I wish Sarah Jane was here," Luke said.

"I wish she was, too," said Martha. "She's probably known the Doctor longer than just about anyone."

"Except for the Brigadier, I think so," agreed Luke.

Martha's eyes brightened and sparkled. "I met him once," she said proudly. "But isn't it weird who is here, and who isn't?"

"I've been thinking about that," said Mickey. "I'm not sure what I'm thinking yet, but I'm working on an idea."

"I'm working on an idea, too," said Jackie, hotly. "And that idea is that this is all the Doctor's fault – as usual!"

* * *


	8. Gone Fishing

_A/N: **The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7,** and**TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel **are proud to present the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits. _

Disclaimer: Tomorrow, we will own Doctor Who for a little while, and then we will all be dropped off in Croydon, as will the papers proving it... or they'll be in Croydon. We'll be in Aberdeen.

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

_**Chapter 8: Gone Fishing**_

Today's Author: Rynne

* * *

"What's a kid doing here?" asked the newly awakened Isleen, staring at Luke in complete and utter bafflement.

Mickey, sounding as though he was practically quoting, snapped, "What's here doing here? Get some perspective."

"Mickey, be nice," Martha ordered. "You sound like him!" She came over and sat next to Isleen. "You'll want some fruit juice, get your blood sugars back up, maybe help with the electrolytes. Do you know why you were asleep?"

"No..." Isleen said, still looking completely confused. "What's a little kid doing here, Martha? It just doesn't make any sense!"

Martha's eyes flashed intelligently, as did Luke's, and they both watched Isleen intently. "You mean the others being here make sense to you?" Luke asked.

Isleen blinked in confusion. "Well... maybe? We're all friends of the Doctor. If someone was trying to scare us off or maybe keep us from exchanging ideas about how to get out of here or whatever, the last thing they'd want us to talk about is the Doctor, since he always gets us out of scrapes and stuff..."

Luke, Mickey, Donna, and even Martha snorted. Jackie just outright laughed. "You've got the wrong idea about himself, honestly you do," she said.

Lucy sat down next to Isleen and smiled sweetly at her. "There's something very wrong with you," Lucy said to Isleen.

"Yeah, well, you'd think that," said Martha. "Since she's trying to make sense and help us out. Sorry, Isleen, just ignore the Queen of the Damned here. She's not in her right mind, or anyone else's."

"It's ok," Isleen said firmly. "I know the Doctor is going to figure out what's going on and help me."

"I really wish Sarah Jane was here," said Luke. "She tells this great story about the Doctor..."

"Which one?" asked a new voice.

"Sarah!" Luke exclaimed, all the joy of a thousand happy humans lighting up his small face as he flung himself across the room. He stopped, however, froze completely as only a stunned adolescent can, when Sarah Jane stepped free of the shadows.

She was astoundingly young and, Martha thought, exceptionally pretty. "So you're her, then..." Jackie started, but Mickey leaned over and shushed her.

"I'm not sure what's going on here," Sarah began, "do you think one of you could fill me in?"

They were all staring. Donna, never having met or even heard of the woman, finally snapped out of it completely. "Look, not sure, but everyone seems to have heard of you or something, except me, for a reason I won't get into. We're companions of the Doctor, and you are, too, right?"

"Well, yes I was," Sarah Jane said, shortly and crossly. "I suppose you could say that. Until Aberdeen."

"Been there," said Martha, with a sigh. "It's all right. We're just trying to figure out what's going on and get out of here."

"I'm sure the Doctor will help us," said Isleen, smiling broadly at Sarah Jane.

"Still traveling with him, is she?" Sarah Jane asked Martha and Donna in a conspiratorial tone. "Newest replacement?"

"What gave her away?" Donna asked with a grin. "Mind, so am I, but he's just a skinny bit of nothing, and I know for a fact if you want something done, you don't wait for the Doctor to do it. Not that he can't, just that..."

"He's the Doctor," Sarah said with a smile. "I'd hate to disillusion the girl."

"It's all right," said Martha. "We've probably been disillusioning her left, right, and center."

"Well, the boy's right, I do have a good do it yourself story. It'll pass some time while we try to think this through."

"Sounds like a plan to me," said Donna, and she escorted Sarah Jane through the group and to a chair nearest the fireplace.

* * *

Sarah Jane stepped out of the TARDIS after the Doctor and had to dance quickly to the side to avoid running into his back.

"Look at this, Sarah!" the Doctor boomed, squatting down to examine something close to the ground. Sarah Jane obediently peered at the dirt, but saw nothing more interesting than more unfamiliar flowers and insects. Really, the Doctor would do better to explain his enthusiasm if he wanted her to understand it.

"They're flowers," Sarah Jane said flatly.

"Flowers!" the Doctor repeated incredulously. "_Flowers?_ As a matter of fact, these are the very rare--" and he spouted of a liquid string of syllables that Sarah supposed might have meant something to her had she been a native of whatever planet they were on. As it was, she missed the name of the flower and only caught up with the Doctor again as he finished up with, "--attractive to fish!"

"Yes, Doctor," Sarah said, nodding as if she remembered everything he'd said. But he looked very occupied with his flowers, so she told him, "I'm going to go explore," and barely waited for his waved acknowledgement before she walked off.

According to the Doctor, they'd landed on Jannersolt, a peaceful, pastoral planet with a nomadic population and the only interesting thing its magnificent sunsets and sunrises. The sun combined with Jannersolt's three moons and particles in the atmosphere to make the sunlight sparkle and reflect off of the moons in, apparently, an extraordinary manner. But the Doctor's timing appeared to be off again, because Sarah Jane judged it to be at least six or so hours until sunset, so in the meantime, she might as well explore.

She wandered around the area with her hands in the pockets of her overalls, enjoying the sunshine and the twitterings of something very like birds--though considering it was another planet, that sound might very well be made by bugs or plants or even rocks. The sun was pleasantly warm, much like Earth, and the scenery fairly similar to the south of England. Like a lot of planets, really--the Doctor said something about universal resonance, but she hadn't fully understood what he'd tried to explain.

She was so enjoying the moment that she didn't realise the twittering had stopped until a group of about twenty people surrounded her. All of them had guns, all of them pointing those guns directly at her. Sarah huffed to herself, but raised her hands, palms open and up, in the universal gesture of peaceful surrender.

_So much for peaceful nomads._

As her captors bound her hands behind her back and tied her feet with just enough slack in the ropes for her to shuffle awkwardly, Sarah watched them. The Doctor had said that the people of this planet were supposed to be less technologically advanced than even Earth in her time, but these people--all men, she noticed--were wearing all sorts of fancy gadgets. Lights blinked on breastplates, weapons and other strange devices hung from belts, and something that looked like a communicator crackled on their wrists.

"Who are you?" Sarah demanded, as one of them prodded her back to start her moving. "Where are you taking me?"

"No talking!" a voice behind her demanded roughly.

"I only want to know--" But she cut herself off when the barrel of a gun pressed into her back. _Fine, no talking. For now._

She shuffled along, taking pleasure in going as slowly as she could manage--which was very slowly, considering how closely they'd bound her feet. Whenever they urged her to go faster, she would, but would soon trip. After several repetitions of that, the one behind her muttered something that sound like a curse, and stopped trying to make her go faster. Sarah Jane had hoped they'd loosen the bonds on her feet, to give her a greater chance of escape, but apparently they weren't going to take that chance. Well, at least going slower gave her more time to think and plan.

She could wait for the Doctor to rescue her, but he didn't know where she was or that she was in trouble, not to mention that he'd be occupied with that flower of his for who knew how long. He'd notice her missing eventually, and then he'd come after her, but Sarah didn't know what her captors had planned for her. The chances weren't high that it was something good. Could she afford to wait until the Doctor remembered her existence?

No. She could not. She would have to get herself out of this.

These people probably were not natives, not if those natives were really as technologically primitive as the Doctor said. They were most likely bandits or even slavers, come here to harvest the natives. Which would mean that they weren't from this planet, and would leave when they were done--taking her with them, if she couldn't get free before then. And if she couldn't, it would be much more difficult for the Doctor to find her if she were taken off-planet. Much better to get away before that could happen.

She concentrated on listening to their conversation for clues. Their accent was strange, sort of like Russians speaking English, but she could understand them.

"This one's dressed oddly, and her skin colour's off, but she looks young and strong," one of them was saying. Sarah Jane grimaced; they were likely talking about her. "She should fetch a good price."

So, they were slavers. This was not good, but not worse than she'd expected.

"Captain, do we have enough with this one?" one of them called.

The leader, apparently in the front, replied after a moment, "Not yet, I think. Most of the catch this time have been plain and scrawny. Let's put this one with the rest, then go get a few strong ones."

"Sir!" the first speaker said, saluting briefly.

Well, there was another thing worth knowing. They seemed fairly well organised, and respectful of their leader. Their clothes had the look of a uniform, rather than looking like scavenged patchwork. They marched together cohesively, with an actual formation.

It all added up to one thing--they were well-trained, and presumably good at this. She wouldn't be able to take advantage of disorganisation or dissent.

Well, that just meant she'd have to be more clever than they were. After years of investigative journalism and countless adventures with the Doctor, she was sure she was up to the task.

Apparently her captors weren't going to take off the minute they got to their destination, so Sarah Jane felt fairly secure about waiting until then to try and make her escape. There were going to be other people there, so they might be able to help her. Best of all, her captors would be going out again after dropping her off. A group like this would leave a guard behind, but one or two guards would be a lot easier to get past than twenty.

So Sarah bided her time, not making any more trouble. Maybe she could get them to underestimate her, to think she gave up and relax a little. She kept track of where they were going so she'd be able to retrace her steps and get back to the Doctor, but she willingly picked up her pace a bit. The sooner they got to wherever they were going, the sooner she could escape.

It was not long after Sarah made this decision that they reached a large building, and next to it, a long, boxy spaceship. She was afraid they'd take her to the ship, which might be harder to get out of than the building, but she let out a sigh of relief when they marched her toward the building instead.

They passed through a door with two guards, hurrying down several hallways that all looked the same. Sarah Jane memorised the turnings, because it looked like she wasn't going to get any other clues as to direction if she came back this way. After a few moments, they reached another door, likewise with two guards. One of the guards brought out some kind of key and unlocked the door, then opened it so the slavers could take Sarah inside.

Then, without another word, they shoved her to the floor and left the room again. The door closed behind them with a horribly final-sounding clang.

Sarah awkwardly got to her knees, mentally cursing the ropes still binding her hands and feet. Hands grabbed her shoulders and elbows, helping her stand up and steadying her when the ropes almost tripped her. She looked up to smile and thank her helpers, and hesitated only slightly when she saw the greenish cast to their skin. None of them seemed sick, and one of the slavers had mentioned her skin colour, so the green was probably just natural for them.

They looked human enough otherwise. There were five of them, all tall and lean, with long brown hair and big brown eyes. They looked to be two men and three women, but their clothes were loose enough that she couldn't be entirely sure. They were also all bound with rope the way she was.

"You do not look Janner," one of the men said. He spoke softly enough that the guards outside the door likely couldn't hear.

"I'm not," Sarah replied just as softly, guessing "Janner" to be the name of the people of the planet Jannersolt. That would make sense, anyway. "My name is Sarah Jane Smith. I'm visiting, with a friend. I'd just gone for a walk when the slavers caught me."

The man nodded. "I am Kel," he said. The other man introduced himself as Baren, and the women as Halma, Girei, and Trista. Sarah could barely tell them apart.

"We are scouts," Kel explained. "Our tribe travels this way in the summer, and we were scouting for danger."

"We seem to have found it," Girei inserted wryly.

Kel snorted. "True," he said. "But we need to warn our tribe that there are off-planet slavers in the area."

Sarah raised her eyebrow. "You know they're from off-planet. I thought your people...hadn't achieved space travel yet."

"We haven't," Halma explained. "Nor do we especially care to. We get everything we need just from travelling our tribe's territory. But sometimes strangers come here, and we have learned about them."

"This is not the first time slavers have come," Girei added. "Usually we are able to avoid them, but sometimes not. This particular band has been here before. They are well-prepared, but also arrogant and full of contempt for our ways." She lifted each of her feet briefly, then turned around to display the rope on her wrists before turning back to face Sarah Jane. Her eyes were narrowed, her chin tilted up. "They like using our own rope to bind us, as if saying they do not need anything more to hold us."

So that was why they'd used rope! She'd wondered, because surely such a well-equipped group would have had some sort of handcuffs. "Well, we can use that against them," Sarah said decisively. "Arrogance is so often just another word for idiocy. We can get out of these ropes, and then we can escape and you can go warn your tribe while I get back to my friend."

To Sarah's pleasure, the others nodded, none protesting that they were afraid or that it was impossible. That would make things easier.

"I have loosened the ropes on my wrists," Kel announced. "As has Halma. We were just about to help each other take them off when we heard the slavers returning and you were brought in."

This was even better than she'd hoped! "Wonderful," Sarah said, grinning. "The slavers said they still wanted a few more strong people. I don't know how long they'll be gone, but we should take advantage of every moment. Do you have a way out of here?"

"Unfortunately, no," Kel said. "We have seen no exits but that door, but we have not been able to fully explore the room. We have been focussed on taking care of the ropes."

Sarah nodded. "I'll look around, then," she said. "You can start getting the ropes off, and I'll see what I can find."

At Kel's answering nod, Sarah turned her attention to the rest of the room. It appeared to be some sort of storage room, and not just for people--there were piles of crates taller than she was all over, casting deep shadows. She shuffled over to the wall closest to her, peering at it. It looked like the walls were wood, and the floor dirt.

Next she hobbled around one of the crate piles. There was light in the room, and not artificial light, so that meant there had to be at least one window nearby.

The light was marginally brighter behind the crates, and Sarah looked up to see a narrow window set high into the wall. It was quite high, and fairly narrow, but it did not have bars on it, or even glass. There appeared to be some sort of screen, but Sarah figured that would be easy enough to remove.

"I've found a way out," she announced when she got back to the group of Janner. Kel and Halma had removed the ropes from both their wrists and ankles, as well as Girei's, and were working on Baren's and Trista's. Girei came forward to work on Sarah's own bonds as she explained, "There's a window on the wall behind the crates. We're going to have to move some crates to help us get high enough to reach it, but I think we're all small enough that we can use it."

"Good," Kel said, as the ropes dropped from Sarah's wrists and she gratefully shook them out. She bent down to work on her own ankles, but needed Girei's help to get the knots undone.

"Thank you," she told Girei when the Janner woman straightened, and returned the smile Girei gave her.

"We must be very quiet when shifting the crates," Girei cautioned. "We do not want the guards to hear us. Sarah Jane Smith, will you listen and watch at the door while we do this, and warn us if someone comes?"

"Yes, of course," Sarah Jane assured her. "And please, call me Sarah Jane, or Sarah."

Girei smiled at her again, made some complicated gesture with her hands Sarah didn't know the meaning of, and turned to help the other Janner with the crates. Sarah moved forward to the door, pressing her ear against it.

She listened as hard as she could, but she could hear nothing, not even the two guards talking to each other. She could feel her heart pounding, and she fought to keep her breathing even. Excitement, anxiety, and fear coursed through her, and she felt so amazingly alive, just the way she had at home when she'd gotten her teeth into a good story.

It seemed like barely any time had passed when someone tapped her on the shoulder and she turned around to see Girei, who gestured to a remarkably tall and stable-looking stairway of crates to the window. The screen had even already been taken out. Sarah grinned, walking with Girei toward the crates before whispering, "I heard nothing outside the door. I think we're clear."

When they reached the others, Kel said, "Sarah Jane, you may go first. After you will come Baren, then Halma, Trista, Girei, and then myself. Is this agreeable to you?"

"Yes, that sounds fine," Sarah Jane said. She wasn't sure what difference it would make, but she was perfectly willing to go along with it.

And definitely the sooner the better, so Sarah immediately started scrambling up the crates as quietly as she could. There was some minor creaking, but she could barely hear it. She grabbed each side and swung herself out, balancing briefly on the sill before letting herself drop down. It wasn't a very long drop, thankfully, so she landed with her knees bent to absorb the shock and quickly moved out of the way.

The Janner were quick and graceful, and soon all five had joined her. They moved to a nearby copse of trees as soon as they were all out. Sarah expected them to immediately head off to wherever their tribe was to warn them, but Kel surprised her by saying, "Girei and I shall escort you to your friend, Sarah Jane. You have helped us. We will make sure you are not re-taken, while the others go to warn the tribe. We will rejoin them later."

"Thank you," Sarah replied gratefully. The Janner scouts had all been taken before by these slavers, but three were still better than one, and as natives, they could probably help her hide better than she could herself.

She and the other Janner exchanged nods, then they took off to the east, and Sarah turned back south. She took the lead, sure that she remembered the right way back to the Doctor.

The short journey back was quiet. Kel and Girei roved around her, their gaze flicking this way and that, looking behind and to the sides as often as they looked forward. They did not speak, and Sarah didn't try to start a conversation. She didn't want to distract them.

The sun seemed about to set when Sarah finally spotted the TARDIS, and she let out a sigh of relief as she turned to her companions. "There's my friend's ship," she said, pointing to the TARDIS. "Thank you for the escort, but I can take it from here."

Kel and Girei looked at the blue police box curiously, but asked no questions. "Thank you for the help, Sarah Jane Smith," Kel said, almost formally.

"Safe journey," Girei added.

"Safe journey," Sarah Jane repeated, and shared one last smile with them before walking the few remaining feet to the TARDIS.

The door was closed, so she couldn't get in, but not far in front of her was a Doctor-shaped person lying in the grass in front of a stream. She moved closer, noticing his hat tipped over to hide his face, and a fishing pole at his side, what looked like the flower he'd been enamoured with earlier speared on the hook. The Doctor appeared to be asleep.

She snorted. "Doesn't that just figure," she muttered. The Doctor might even have slept through the entire thing. Louder, she said, "Doctor, wake up," and nudged him in the shoulder with her foot.

"Can't a fellow get any sleep around here?" the Doctor said, his deep voice muffled by the hat. Sarah leaned over and picked it up, moving back when his hand reached up and flailed around for it.

"You've been sleeping," she said dryly. "And, apparently, fishing. It's almost sunset."

"Sunset!" He lurched upright, then bounded to his feet and snatched his hat back, shoving it in a pocket of his coat. "Already? Why didn't you wake me earlier?"

"I just got back," she said. "Doctor--"

"Aha!" he exclaimed, shading his eyes and pointing ahead of him, behind her. "Sunset! Look, Sarah!"

Sighing, she turned. She'd forgotten about coming to see the sunset in the mess that had followed, and she was annoyed with the Doctor for not even realising she'd been in trouble. But then she looked, and forgot her irritation.

The sunset truly was glorious, the bright yellow and orange and red of the sun contrasting with the purple and blue of the sky, and the three bright white moons arrayed around the sun like jewels in a crown. That impression was enhanced by the particles in the atmosphere the Doctor had mentioned, so that it looked almost like the very air was coruscating in a rainbow of colours. The effect was entrancing, and Sarah Jane watched until the sun had truly gone down. The moons grew brighter, and though the sky continued to sparkle slightly under their glow, it wasn't nearly as brilliant as it had been with the sun and the moons together.

"Now _that_ is a sunset!" the Doctor enthused. He turned to her, beaming. "One of the more brilliant of even Jannersolt's sunsets. Just what I'd wanted!"

"It was quite beautiful," Sarah agreed, though she felt "beautiful" such a paltry word.

"We need more of this kind of day," the Doctor continued, heading back to the TARDIS. "Great fishing, a nice nap, and an absolutely amazing sunset." He unlocked the door, pushing it open. "Did you have fun exploring, Sarah?"

Her irritation returned. Sarah Jane debated strangling the Doctor with his own scarf, but settled for pushing him inside the TARDIS and shutting the door firmly behind them.

* * *


	9. Frankly Speaking

_A/N: **The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7**, and **TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel** are proud to present the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits. And puns, unfortunately for the rest of us._

Disclaimer: Today, Doctor Who has not been given to us. We're reasonably certain this is a technical difficulty, and the paper work will be properly in our custody very very soon. Right? Mr. Moffett? Where'd he go?

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

_**Chapter 9: Frankly Speaking**_

Today's Author: SilverWolf7

* * *

The companions, mostly the women, started talking amongst themselves, laughing, sipping away at the drinks, exchanging small things that didn't risk anything important going wrong. Mickey and that nice Dr. Martha has already reminded Jackie that half these people were from different points in time and space.

Aside from taking her turn at attempting to stop Luke fretting and trying to comfort the hyper-intelligent child (he really, really looked like... but Mickey said he wasn't...), Jackie mostly stayed with the companions. She sort of understood these young women. They had followed the Doctor, just like her daughter had done, just like she herself had done by mistake once and only once.

They were all laughing, except that strange Lucy woman, and the little boy seemed more nervous than amused. Mickey was in the thick of it, entertaining the ginger-haired woman while Dr. Martha seemed to preside over everything. Sarah Jane, however, was obviously the queen of the crowd.

Jackie was relieved that Rose wasn't there. A very strange shiver crawled over her as she tried to think how Rose would be in this situation. Isleen turned to look at her, to stare actually. "Are you all right?" the young woman wondered in an almost sad sort of tone.

Mickey snorted at something Donna had said, and Jackie looked up to smile at that. She turned back to Isleen, about to explain about Rose but, as she thought about it, she realized that it wasn't really all that important. "I'm fine," was all she said, and she smiled and rubbed her baby bump. "We're fine."

"I'm glad," the willowy girl replied.

"It's ridiculous, all the aliens I met at work for that place," Mickey was saying.

"Ever met an Ood?" Donna asked.

"Heard of 'em," Mickey said with a shrug. "But they're the future, aren't they?"

"True," Donna said.

"What would it be like to have a normal life?" Sarah Jane wondered with a laugh.

Jackie chuckled. "I had one, it isn't much." Taking a deep drink of fresh water, she shook her head, then set the cup down. "I used to wonder what it would be like to be one of you lot, adventures all the time."

"You'd take over the world to hear him tell it," Mickey said with a fond grin. "Only thing in the Universe even the Doctor's afraid of."

Isleen laughed. "That's completely fascinating!" she exclaimed. "How do you do that?"

"Magic," Jackie said, and waved her hand with another laugh. She'd been in a good mood since coming to terms with her pregnancy, really. She wasn't going to lose it now. "Still, I can only imagine. I think it'd be fantastic!"

* * *

Working at Torchwood was not the healthiest job to have if you liked your life, especially if it involved fighting aliens.

Her job at Torchwood was nothing like those, and it was good to get a bit of money on the side that was hers and not coming from Pete's pocket.

Even better, both Rose and Mickey worked there, under Pete, so she was never alone.

Mainly, her job was as a receptionist/tea lady. Mainly tea lady at that. Most people seemed to prefer coffee, except for Rose and Pete. That hadn't bothered her too much though. She only worked the floor that Rose worked on when she was in her office instead of out in the field.

Today, Rose had nothing other to do than write out reports, while Mickey was out with Jake doing some sort of job or other for Pete.

"You want some tea, sweetheart?"

Rose finished typing whatever she was working on at the time, looked at her and frowned. "I'm busy. But, yeah, I would like some tea, thanks."

"I'll be back in a few minutes then."

She had exited the room, intent on getting that tea and making sure Rose was fine with her reports. She hadn't meant to run into the alien in the hallway, but she had.

This alien wasn't one of those ones that looked human. There was no mistaking the alienness of the being. Solid grey eyes looked at her, and she couldn't tell the expression on its face to tell if it was surprised, or angry.

"Oh, oops. Sorry. Didn't mean to run you down there. My fault. I'll be going now. Tea run."

She ran as fast as she could away from the alien and into the tea room. The door closing behind her made her sigh with relief, and she got round to boiling the jug, getting the tea Rose liked and fetching the milk out of the fridge to have in a cup for herself.

The two mugs on a tray, she turned around, shouted, dropped the tray and was too shocked to even manage to think that she had just broken two of the mugs and messed up the floor.

The alien was in there with her. Those grey eyes were following her every move, and it smiled at her, rows of sharp teeth showing in its mouth.

"Can I help you? Do you speak English? I'm not exactly the right person to talk alien languages or anything, you'd have to go to the translators for that."

It walked up to her, well, more like waddled up to her, and smiled again. "Oh, I have a universal translator that works both ways. English is one of the common languages on this backwater planet of yours."

"Oh. Then what do you want with me?"

It grinned, and this time it looked slightly more malicious than the other times. "Oh, I wanted a bit of a snack. You mentioned tea. There are these biscuits I like that go with tea sometimes..."

She almost sank to the floor in relief that the snack it wanted didn't involve her limbs, but a biscuit. "Well, the only ones left in here right now are ginger."

"Ginger is good."

Nodding, Jackie turned back around, accidentally cutting her feet as she walked on the pieces of broken mug. "Ow! Damn, now I need to go get this cleaned up too. Well, the biscuits should be in that container there." She pointed to said container. "Help yourself. They're for anyone. I've got to go get my feet seen to."

She left the alien for the five minutes it took to limp her way on sore feet down the hall to the medical part of the floor, and get her feet seen to. She limped back, not expecting to still see the alien in there, or to find the mess she had made to be cleaned up.

But there was the alien. Eating the mugs she had dropped, especially keen on the bits that happened to have her blood on them. Shrieking, she wacked the thing on the head, turned around, sprinted to the elevator, up to Pete's office and slammed her hands down on his desk.

"Did you know there's a mug eating alien licking my blood in the break room on Rose's floor? Aren't you going to do anything about it, or am I the only one that spotted it?"

Pete stared blankly at her. "Jacks, love, I think you may have just met Frank."

She stared at her husband long and hard, before scowling. "Frank?! That thing's name is FRANK?!"

Pete nodded, looking back down at whatever it was that had been keeping him busy until she had stamped in. "He's working with us to meet a diplomatic decision to open a tour of our solar system from his own. He'll eat practically anything, but don't worry, he won't eat people."

Scowling even harder, pointing to the door out, she glared. "It was lapping up my blood off the floor! Not eating people maybe, but that doesn't mean that he hasn't got a taste for human blood."

Pete looked worriedly at her and she realised that he hadn't yet heard of her little accident. "I'm fine, really. I just was surprised he followed me into the break room and dropped the mugs. I trod on them. I've already had my feet cleaned and tested. Nothing wrong but a few cuts."

"Jacks...maybe you should stay home for a few days. Nothing will blow up with you gone for a while."

Nodding, she took the dismissal as a good reason to stay out of Torchwood for a few days. The last thing she wanted was to run into Frank the alien again.

There was something disturbing about a creature that would eat anything.

She never went back to work there again and she was relieved every day Pete, Rose and Mickey came home.

She was more afraid than ever that one or all of them wouldn't arrive back home.

* * *


	10. Of Identities and Differences

_A/N: **The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7**, and**TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel** are proud to present the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits. _

Disclaimer: -This Spot for Lease! Get Your Disclaiming Message Out There!-

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

_**Chapter 10: Of Identities and Differences**_

Today's Author: The Chibi's Are Stalking Me

* * *

"OK, maybe it wouldn't be so much fun after all," Jackie said with a rueful smile. "I dunno, but wouldn't that be my luck, some alien who drinks blood turns out to be the Marketing Director or something, and I insult him?"

Donna chuckled. "I got no problem with it. He wants to act weird, he's gonna get a slap an' told he's weird!"

"I'm with Donna," said Mickey, grinning, while the red-head smiled fondly at him.

"I don't know," said Isleen. "What would the Doctor think about it?"

"That we're all very silly and simple creatures who don't really know what we're doing with anything." Sarah Jane waved a hand as if drawing pictures to demonstrate her point. "And that we're like babies running with scissors most of the time."

"Stupid apes," Mickey observed.

"The Doctor doesn't really think like that, does he?!" Isleen exclaimed.

"You tell us," said Martha with a shrug. "Dunno anyone who knows what really goes on in that head of his..."

"Time Lords are superior life forms," Lucy Saxon said softly. "Their species is the Universe's first-born and their birth right included many gifts. You simpler, lesser species are entertaining to behold, because you are so young, so small... so fragile." She smiled coldly. "Time Lords think in clouds. Logic begets logic begets reasonable reason..."

"Lucy, you need to stop," said Sarah Jane, calmly. "You're working yourself into a state, you're only going to hurt yourself." Martha started in surprise, but Sarah Jane shook her head and leaned close. "Good cop, bad cop," she whispered. Martha nodded.

"I shouldn't say anyway, not when I'm being eaten alive," Lucy said quietly. "I wish Harry was here - he'd look after me. He'd know what to do."

"Tell me a bit about Harry, won't you, Lucy?" Sarah Jane encouraged gently. "Does he make you think things you don't want to do?"

Lucy looked puzzled by this, genuinely and thoroughly uncertain. "He takes care of me."

Sarah Jane sat in the Donna-vacated chair next to Lucy's and patted the beautiful blonde's porcelain hand. "Tell me something about it," she encouraged.

Slowly, an expression of confused frustration on her face, Lucy nodded.

* * *

Looking back, the line between the two was just slightly more obvious than it had been. Actions tinted by time and nostalgia, like a half-broken kaleidoscope. Maybe, years from now, the two would be blended once more.

Duality. Maybe that was the term for it. Both so alike but so different; some glaring, some hidden. Like the dreams. Nightmares, really. An easy way to tell which was which was by how he reacted after waking up.

Harry would go rigid, eyes snapping open and gasping raggedly for breath. Usually he'd reach for her, occasionally waking her if he hadn't been thrashing again – he tried not to, really he did – and if she could coax the stories out of him, he gradually relaxed against her for however much of the night was left. Otherwise he would just pull her as close as he could, fingers twitching out a steady rhythm on her nightgown until morning came.

The Master would hesitate; face twisting into a frown before finally letting himself be pulled completely to consciousness. He'd lay still for a moment before sitting upright, slinging his legs over the side of their bed and pace the length of it a few times before moving to the door. He would glance back at her before shutting it, running off to do…something. She had only followed him once, and it had been more than enough to dissuade such actions again.

There were other differences, of course. Harry couldn't stand the Frea- erm, Jack, and would keep as far away from that part of the airship as possible when he was in charge. The Master took great pleasure in coming up with new ways to kill and maim him; he'd once described the immortal as a new toy, one he could toss around as much as he liked but wouldn't break.

And…Harry was the one who kept the Doctor around. He'd never, ever admit it, but he was _lonely_; the idea of being the last Time Lord _terrified_ him. The Master was wary of this, however. The Doctor had, time and again, been able to win out due to some mixture of intellect, patience, and sheer fools luck; why keep him so close, if around at all?

Lucy was never really quite sure which it was who sometimes guided her quickly, frantically back to their rooms, muttering how it wasn't safe right now and to not open the door until he came back. It hadn't happened often – only four times in the year – but long enough that by the end she'd all but memorized the pattern on the inside of their door. One time that stood out had involved the guards, and she only knew that because a few of the bodies hadn't quite been cleared away by the time he'd come to collect her.

It gave her a slight feeling of satisfaction when she'd caught a sign of transition. A light flickering behind his eyes; the slightest tilt of his head; a sudden shift in expression; bursting abruptly into motion…

And she loved them both. It was hard not to, both being the same person. The only…downside was that, as time went by, Harry seemed to show himself less and less, while the Master became much more dominant.

It might have been strange, as they were never very far away, but sometimes…she missed him.

* * *


	11. Time Lord Tea Party

_A/N: **The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7**, and**TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel** are proud to present the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits._

Disclaimer: Owner of Doctor Who? No, you want the BBC.

**

* * *

The Companionable Tales**

_**Chapter 11: Time Lord Tea Party**_

Today's Author: Cordelia-Lear

* * *

Lucy was inconsolable, and Sarah Jane was trying to calm her down. Donna was filing her nails and comparing notes on hair-care with Jackie. Isleen was pacing fretfully between the fireplace and the chair where Mickey and Luke were discussing football and why Luke should enjoy it. Luke wasn't exactly agreeing with Mickey, but it seemed to be due to something about his mother's discouragement.

Martha sighed and settled back in her chair. She wanted a nap and she wanted out of here, not necessarily in that order. She wondered if Tom was missing her and assumed he probably was.

"Are you all right?" Isleen asked quietly, sitting down next to Martha and offering a gentle smile.

Martha nodded and smiled back. "I was just wondering if we were being missed by the people we were with. This place seems timeless, if Mickey's watch is anything to go by, but I'm not sure if that means we're gone for no time or not."

Isleen blinked. "You're very very clever," she said. "I was wondering when the Doctor would find me, but if time's not relevant..."

"Don't say it," Martha cautioned, gesturing at Luke quite nearby, and back at Sarah Jane. "It's not impossible, not yet. We'll figure it out, I'm sure."

"But the Doctor usually does things to help his companions, right?"

Martha smiled and tried not to be condescending. "Well, he won't let you die if he can help it," she said, truthfully.

"But he'd never just leave you in a difficult situation, would he?"

Martha snorted. "Isleen, you've either gotten a very polite Doctor or you're really new at this. Listen..."

* * *

The Doctor fidgeted in his chair, and shot Martha a sideways glance. She sighed then smiled encouragingly in his direction. Her mother glared at him from the end of the table.

"Mum, I thought you and the Doctor got off on the wrong foot last time. Thanks for letting us come to tea," Martha said carefully.

"_You're_ always welcome," Francine said, still glaring at the Doctor.

The Doctor coughed politely into his hand, and Martha kicked him under the table. "Oi!" he protested too loudly.

"Something wrong?" Francine asked icily.

The Doctor opened his mouth, glanced at Martha, then thought better of it. "N-no," he said quietly.

An uncomfortable silence seemed to drown out everything else that Martha could think to speak about, and she shot the Doctor a curious look. He was never this quiet for this long.

"Martha, dear, Tish told me that she called you last week about her new job, and you never called back. Have you been able to check your messages?" Francine continued to stare at the Doctor who was busy carefully studying the table cloth pattern.

"Well, the Doctor and I have been busy. _Saving planets_."

The Doctor remained silent, and Martha knew something was about to happen. She didn't know whether she was worried or excited. Both probably.

"Yes, that's nice, dear. It's just too bad you missed your nephew's birthday," Francine said significantly.

Martha rolled her eyes. "Mum, he turned one. He's not going to remember this ten minutes from now, let alone ten years from now."

The Doctor cleared his throat and shifted in his seat.

"Yes?" Francine asked in a strained polite manner.

The Doctor looked up, startled. "Hm?"

"What?" Francine demanded.

"Did I say something?" the Doctor asked wide eyed. "Martha?" He turned to her.

"You cleared your throat," Martha clarified.

"Oh, that. It's nothing. Carry on." He coughed. "Continue sending veiled threats my way," he said quickly. He coughed again, and took a slurp of tea. He glanced between mother and daughter.

"_Here we go_," Martha thought.

"I'm sorry?" Francine demanded.

"For what?" he asked. Martha kicked him under the table again. "Ow! D'you think we need to get your reflexes checked, Martha Jones?" he asked quirking an eyebrow at her.

"They seem to be just fine," she replied, kicking him a bit more sharply.

He stood up abruptly, and moved into the chair next to Francine. "You won't kick me, will you?" he asked, turning his charm up to eleven.

Her lack of answer and hell freezing stare were answer enough, and he jumped to his feet with the loud pronouncement of "Biscuits!"

Martha and Francine both jumped with his surprise energy burst.

"That's what we need! Chocolate, preferably. Francine?" he asked expectantly.

She blinked at him.

"Right! I can get them. Through here?" He motioned to the kitchen, and didn't wait for her answer. The door swung after his abrupt exit.

"Martha," Francine pleaded with her daughter. "Why don't you come back home, study for you exams? It's not safe with him. What do you even know about him? He acts like he's on drugs!"

Martha closed her eyes slowly, as the sound of the TARDIS dematerialization sequence cut off her reply. Her phone rang shortly thereafter. TARDIS lit up the caller ID, and she sighed.

"Hello?"

"Is dinner over yet?" the Doctor asked warily.

Martha glanced at her mother. "Not yet," she said with false cheer.

"Right. See you in a week… Maybe two."

"Martha, is that the Doctor?" Francine pressed.

"Is she asking if it's me? She is, isn't she. Don't tell her it's me! Say it's… your dad! If there's anyone she hates more than me it's your dad!" The Doctor blurted out in a rush.

"Yes, Mum, it's him," Martha said.

The Doctor groaned. "What did you go and do that for? Now she probably thinks I'm some sort of coward!"

Martha snorted.

"What?" both the Doctor and Francine demanded simultaneously.

Martha realized, suddenly, that she was standing at a crossroad, at that moment. She could choose to take the peacemaking route, smoothing over the Doctor's sudden departure, or she could further damage the train wrecked mess that was the Doctor and her mother's relationship…

"_Rose would know," _she thought, unbidden. Okay, now SHE was doing it.

"Mum, the Doctor has decided that I'm not enough woman for him, so he's going to pick Tish up from work, take her for a spin, and then come back for me so we can all have a go," she said nonchalantly. "You can come, too, if you like, he says," she added.

Francine slammed her cup down, and stormed out of the room, as the Doctor made an incomprehensible sound somewhere between a groan and a squeal.

"That's what you get for leaving me here on my own," Martha said into the phone.

* * *


	12. A Different Sort of Jelly Baby

_A/N: **The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7**, and **TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel** are proud to present the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits._

Disclaimer: Of course we own Doctor Who. In our dreams, in alternate universes, in strange dimensions, in imaginations, LOTS of places. Just not in real life.

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

_**Chapter 12: A Different Sort of Jelly Baby**_

Today's Author: TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel

* * *

Isleen laughed gleefully as Martha concluded her story. Martha was looking fiercely triumphant at her conclusion, at least in Donna's opinion. "And here I was, thinking he always came out on top," Isleen observed through her giggles.

"He gets himself in his own trouble," Donna said, thoughtfully. "Half the time, it's his own cleverness that catches him. Bites him in the bum, usually."

Sarah Jane fell off her chair, chortling with hilarity. "Oh, I didn't need that image in my head!" she declared.

The whole room cracked up at this, with only Lucy abstaining in any way. She did smile a bit though, Donna noticed, at least when someone said something about refusing to take him too seriously.

"I feel bad, though, laughing at him when he's not here to defend himself!" Isleen admitted.

"He can't complain," Martha shot back. "He's the Doctor, and laughter is the best medicine."

At this rather horrid cliche, the whole room still managed to dissolve into more giggles. Then, at once, several people said, "Look, there was this one time..."

They stared at each other and waved hands and gestured at everyone else to go. Finally, it was Mickey who reclined in his chair, put his feet up on the arm of Donna's chair, and started talking.

* * *

Mickey was roused slightly from a deep sleep by something vaguely wet touching his foot.

He rolled over and tried to push it away, hoping it would go somewhere else, not really awake yet.

_Gloggle._

His eyes shot open at the wet wobbly noise and in one movement he sat up and shot to the other end of the bed. Blinking incredulously, he looked back.

There was a thing very like a baby seal on his bed, with big dark eyes and flippers and soft fur, only it was pale blue and mostly covered in a thick layer of something faintly slimy and jelly-like.

"What the hell?"

The thing that wasn't a baby seal looked at him with sad big eyes and made a soft 'murp' sound, and wriggled. Its face and flippers lost a little more of the jelly stuff, but it remained encased in the rest of it.

Mickey sighed at the state of his bed. How had the weird alien gotten up onto it, anyway?

His question was answered almost immediately as the baby seal thing drifted up in the air, then floated down again.

It couldn't seem to control where it landed or else wasn't very good at it, because it landed on the very edge of the bed and promptly fell off. For a moment its expression was that of something crushed by the unexpected cruelty of the universe, before it led out a heartbroken wail.

In spite of himself, Mickey couldn't help the cry tugging at his heartstrings. "Hey, you're alright," he told the baby seal thing, getting off the bed and approaching it cautiously. "You're still covered in that stuff. You just fell off the bed."

The baby seal thing's wail died down a bit to a sort of muffled murmur, and it stared at Mickey.

Sighing, he hoisted it into his arms, jelly and all, where it snuggled up to him, apparently happy with its change in circumstances.

"Right," he told it, "Let's go find the Doctor, so I can kill him."

The baby seal thing _murp_ed agreeably.

* * *

Mickey and the alien wandered around the TARDIS for several minutes, with no sign of the Doctor. Eventually though, Mickey heard the Doctor's voice, speaking in a weird mix of commanding and exasperated and pleading tones.

He emerged from one hallway to see the Doctor surrounded by baby seal things. He was shooing them with his hands, trying to herd them along, but some of them were still too covered in jelly and others were wandering off in the other direction, and one was wailing anxiously.

"Come on, don't just sit there staring at me," the Doctor scolded a couple of baby seal things that were staring soulfully at him, apparently perfectly happy to sit there and adore him from where they were. "I'm not your mother, I'm a nine hundred year old Time Lord and you are in my ship, and currently making a large mess of it."

His words had no effect on the worshipful baby seal things, which were unable to comprehend a word he said and still convinced that he was their mummy.

Mickey snorted. The scene was ridiculous.

The Doctor spun around at the sound, and a look of mingled embarrassment and guilt appeared on his face. "Ah, Mickey," he greeted him brightly. "Um." He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "I'm trying to get them all out before Rose finds them."

Mickey smirked, and guided a crawling baby seal thing back towards the Doctor with his foot. If Rose saw them she'd never let the Doctor live it down, and probably try to adopt one of them to boot.

Coz really, they were _adorable_, he admitted, but only in his head, because if he said it out loud he'd sound like a sap.

One of the baby seal things levitated gently, its hind flippers gently smacking the Doctor in the back of the head. He turned in surprise, just in time to get a hind flipper in the face as the creature dropped.

Mickey chortled, and the Doctor turned back to him, looking disgruntled and with faintly green-tinted slime across his nose and mouth.

"I see you found one of them yourself," the Doctor said, choosing to ignore Mickey's amusement and pulling out a large handkerchief to wipe his face.

Mickey glanced down at the pale blue baby in his arms. It had gone to sleep.

"Found it on my bed when I woke up. What's with the jelly stuff?"

The Doctor looked at him in surprise.

"Oh, that's the remains of their eggs," he said cheerfully. "They grow up pretty intelligent, see, like humans, so their heads are too big for the birth canal if they're only born at full, well, infant development. So instead they're born in this protein-rich, breathable, kind of gelatinous membrane, so that when they're born they can spend the first few weeks lying around happily in their eggs, absorbing nutrients from the jelly around them, until they're old enough to clean themselves up and join the adults."

The Doctor frowned down at the baby seal things.

"Only I left the TARDIS door open, and a half-hatched colony ended up in the TARDIS. They're probably all over the ship by now."

Mickey joined the Doctor in trying to herd the current group of baby seal things towards the console room, so that they could get them out the TARDIS door and back to the lakes where they belonged.

The Doctor suddenly stopped short in the doorway to the console room.

"What's up?" Mickey demanded.

A voice spoke from the room ahead.

"Are there more of these things, Doctor?"

Mickey peered around the embarrassed Time Lord to see Rose sitting on the console room floor, surrounded by resting baby seal things.

The ones that he and the Doctor had been herding gambolled over clumsily to join the others, delighted to see them.

"Well..." the Doctor began.

Rose stared at him.

"Probably, yeah," he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Mickey smirked as Rose just shook her head and muttered about daft aliens.

* * *


	13. Cloud Gazer

_A/N: **The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7**, and **TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel** are proud to present the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits._

Disclaimer: Some roses are red, old TARDISes are blue, we're just borrowing this lot, we don't own Doctor Who...

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

_**Chapter 13: Cloud Gazer**_

Today's Author: NewDrWhoFan

* * *

"Oh my god, I freakin' want one!" Donna exclaimed through the loud laughter of the group.

"That sounds just like my daughter," Jackie said, shaking her head in resignation.

Isleen frowned abruptly. Her happy expression might as well have been erased from her face, it disappeared so quickly. "Your daughter?" she asked hesitantly.

"Rose is my daughter, yeah," Jackie said. "I thought you knew."

Isleen shook her head slowly. "Sorry, I guess I didn't. I think I..."

"Whatever you know," Mickey cautioned, "you probably shouldn't say."

"But I got the impression that Rose was something else, somehow," said Isleen, hesitantly.

Martha smiled and shook her head sadly. "That's a pretty common theme with a few of us. Just... change the subject."

"Are you afraid of the big bad wolf?" asked Lucy in a soft, playful sing-song.

"Oi!" Mickey snapped, rounding on Lucy. "You can just..."

"I've got a question!" Sarah Jane practically yelled over the crowd. Everyone turned to her, and she nodded firmly. "Right, well, I've got several questions, actually, and I want to ask them, but I think this one is the most important."

She looked a bit nervous at being in charge again for a moment, and then she squared her shoulders and looked resolute. Mickey glanced over at Luke to see what the boy thought of such a youthful version of his mother. He seemed to be watching her with great pride in his expression, and Mickey observed to himself that it was rare for teenage boys to be impressed by their parents. Luke had struck him as respectful, but somehow Mickey still thought this might be a good experience for the strange kid.

"Right," said Sarah. "I think the most important thing we need to know right now is a bit more about how everyone works into this. Isleen, can you tell us how you met the Doctor? I think it might be very important."

Isleen frowned. "But..."

"Honestly," Martha agreed, "I'm sure Sarah's right. Don't be worried if it's too embarrassing. You know how Mickey met him, after all, and it doesn't get any more embarrassing than that!"

"Hey!" Mickey protested, but everyone shushed him, and Jackie looked like she'd tell it her way if Mickey didn't let himself be hushed. Jackie's way would make everyone look awful in that scene. "Yeah, Martha's right," Mickey said. "I'm sure none of us had really fantastic experiences the first time we met the Doctor. We're never at our best for that sort of thing. So tell us, if you can?"

Slowly, looking like she was agreeing to walk to the gallows instead, Isleen nodded.

* * *

Unlike many of her friends, Isleen was no star-gazer. Rather, she was a cloud-gazer. While the others were still harvesting in the Valley, she would climb the hill and lie in the grass, basking in the sunlight and mentally drawing pictures in the clouds that would form every morning before noon. Sometimes she would imagine little animals at play, sometimes forests in the sky, sometimes she could see her mother or father painted in the wisps of white-on-blue.

When the patterns began to change, Isleen was the first to notice. The towering clouds weren't heeded much at first, since the rains still came and went as expected. But it was no longer warm and welcoming on the hilltop; the noon sun was obscured, and the winds buffeted the clearing.

Isleen complained about the chill and took to wearing a blanket as a shawl. Her parents were concerned, but her friends (more peers, really) laughed at her and called her weak as they continued work and play unabated.

It was on the evening of the alignment, just as the elders were beginning their ascent up the mountain at the head of the Valley, that Isleen fell ill. Her father begged the Healer to come and see her, but the Chief insisted the eight had to ascend together, and that Isleen would be seen in the morning. Isleen spent the night in and out of consciousness, always waking to find either her worried mother or her worried father at her bedside.

At daybreak, the elders arrived. The Chief stormed into Isleen's room, shouting and pointing and threatening. It was difficult to make out what he was actually saying in his agitated state and with her parents trying to remove him, but Isleen managed to hear enough. The Stone was missing from the mountain observatory. Not only that, but the alignment had been hidden in clouds--clouds at night! At this very moment, thick, dark clouds hung in the sky, and rumblings of thunder could be heard.

And the elders were blaming Isleen.

They claimed witnesses saw her leaving the harvest early in the morning, cloaked for the cold of the mountain, and that she must have scaled the mountain and stolen the Stone. Isleen tried to protest her innocence, but she couldn't lift herself from her bed, so far had her illness progressed. Her parents tried to defend her, but the Healer insisted her illness was proof of her guilt. The elders demanded the return of the Stone by that evening, and left the house.

The clouds had not dissipated at noon, or even by nightfall. In fact, a storm now raged over the once peaceful Valley. The elders began moving everyone to the higher ground on the mountainside to avoid the flooding, but Isleen's family was forbidden to leave until the girl produced the Stone.

Isleen's last memory of the Valley was her mother, sobbing at her bedside.

She awoke in a strange, bright room. Her mother and father were standing with her, along with a man she now knew as the Doctor. She was in the TARDIS medical bay, and the Doctor had healed her.

Although the Doctor had restored the balance of... Isleen hadn't understood all he'd said, but he had found the Stone and returned the clouds to normal; the elders still blamed Isleen.

Banished by her people, and indebted to this amazing, powerful man, it was really the simplest choice of her life to ask to travel with him.

* * *


	14. Interlude and Fugue

_A/N: **The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7**, and **TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel** are proud to present the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits. Well, not exactly "edits" tonight._

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. And so, in summary, we do not own Doctor Who.

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

_**Chapter 14: Interlude and Fugue**_

Today's Author: Jessa L'Rynn

* * *

"I thought you were from Earth," said Mickey, surprised.

"I sorta thought that, too," agreed Martha. "You know - because you knew who Lucy here was."

"Well, we spend an awful lot of time on Earth," Isleen said hesitantly. "The Doctor owns it, doesn't he?"

"Owns Earth?" demanded Donna, jumping up from her chair. She stormed across the room and yelled into the darkened edges of the emptiness. "Get that skinny bit of nothing in here; I'm gonna murder him. What the hell does he mean he owns Earth?!"

"Wait, Donna," said Jackie, soothingly, "Isleen might not think of ownership the way we do - she's not from our planet, you know."

"You're just saying that because you don't want her to kill him before you do," Mickey laughed his accusation at Jackie. Jackie shrugged sulkily back at Mickey who wondered quietly to himself what she would do if she knew she was going to have to put up with him for the rest of her life.

"I think it's time we start being a little clever here," said Sarah Jane. "Isleen, it isn't exactly ownership. His people told him to look after Earth and I expect he takes that as seriously as he ever took anything else they told him, which is to say that we're lucky milk comes out of cows."

Again, there was something someone didn't know. Martha and Mickey both looked at everyone else to make sure no one dropped the 'Last of the Time Lords' bomb shell on Sarah Jane. When it didn't happen, they nodded to one another.

"I think the first thing," Sarah Jane continued, probably not obliviously, but also not pointing any more than necessary, "is to figure out where everyone was and what we were doing before this started. I've been with several of the Doctor's companions at once before, but never without the Doctor as well. So... who was here first?"

"That'd be me," said Isleen. "I can't clearly remember. I was on the Bridge with the Doctor and Bob... At least I think I was. That's the last thing I remember, anyway. Bob and the Doctor can talk and I can't always hear them, though the Doctor always tells Bob that it's rude..." Several people snorted, more than likely at the idea of the Doctor calling someone else rude. "But I think this time, he and Bob were arguing."

"And Bob's psychic, you told me?" Mickey said. "And his TARDIS room is like this?"

Isleen nodded slowly. Mickey frowned, then looked at Sarah Jane who shrugged and gestured him to go on. "Right, I was next," Mickey said. "I was with Jack, and then I went to bed."

"You were with Jack!?" Martha exclaimed, at the same time as Donna yelled, "Why are they always gay!?"

Mickey glowered. "Jack showed up on my doorstep. I talked to him. I tried to throw him out of my house. He stayed. I went to bed."

"Why'd he stay?" Isleen asked.

"Because Captain Jack Harkness does what and pretty much who he wants. He's like Casanova's understudy."

"More like instructor," Martha said in a weary voice. "All right, I was next. I was home with Tom. We went to bed, but he thought he might get paged away, depending on what happened with one of his patients. That was about it. I turned up here, and then the flake here showed."

"Martha doesn't like me," Lucy said with a smile. "But I saw Jack today, too. For a little while. Then I was sent to bed. Jack doesn't trust me, either."

"And you're the Master's wife?" Sarah Jane asked as if for clarification. Lucy nodded. "And you're sure he's dead?"

"Yes, he was shot. It was very sad."

"Who shot him?" Sarah Jane asked Martha. Martha pointed to Lucy behind her back so that only Sarah could see. Sarah nodded.

"All right, and then Donna arrived after Lucy," said Martha.

"Right. Time Boy was in one of his moods, some place we'd ended up he didn't want to be, so he was pretending to be friendly and cheerful. I tried to get him to tell me the truth, but he wouldn't, so I went to bed. That's the last thing I remember."

"Where were you?" Mickey asked.

"Dunno," Donna said. "He hit the fast return switch. Something about dogs with no noses."

"Oh," said Mickey, then shrugged. "And you were next, right Jacks?"

"Yeah," said Jackie. "It was middle of the afternoon on Tuesday. I thought you were at work, though, Mickey."

"Never mind, Jackie," Mickey said. "In fact, you'd probably best forget I said anything."

Jackie frowned, but nodded. "May as well. But Mickey, Rose, and Pete were all at work. Your Gran was out in the gardens, Mick, and Annette was with her. I thought I'd get a bit of a kip in before teatime. That's the last thing I remember."

"You were sleeping in the middle of the day?" Mickey asked.

"Oi! Seven months preggers, here. Don't make me smack you!"

Mickey looked sheepish. "Right," he said. "Sorry." He sighed. "And then there was young Luke here, right?"

Luke nodded thoughtfully. "Yes and... my mother had just sent me to bed," he said, looking at the younger Sarah Jane. "And then you yourself arrived, ma'am."

"Right," said Sarah. "And I'd just chased Harry out for the evening."

"Dr. Sullivan?" Luke asked.

"Yes," Sarah Jane agreed, looking at Luke thoughtfully. "He's talking about taking a job with the UN itself, and I've been encouraging him, at least I hope I have." She looked thoughtful and distressed at once, then shook herself sharply. "But never mind. The point is, I'm the last to arrive, so far, and Isleen was the first. We've also traveled with different Doctors, it appears. What does your Doctor look like, Martha?"

"Tall and slim and easy on the eyes," Martha said with a dreamy smile.

"Good Lord," said Donna and rolled her eyes. "He's a geek, Sarah. He's a scrawny bit of alien geek nothing."

"And my Doctor - my most recent Doctor - looks a bit like a stork with big hair," said Sarah. "And the one before was quite the dashing older gentleman."

"We've known Big Ears and Brooding," said Jackie, "and I think Martha's is the same as the second one, right Mick?"

"That's him all right," Mickey agreed. "What about your one, Isleen? What does he look like?"

Isleen frowned. "Well, he's... he's very tall, I think. But the Doctor's always tall, isn't he?"

"No, not really," said Mickey. Everyone turned to look at him, confused. "What?" he said. "I infiltrated Torchwood One. I hacked UNIT. I thought it was something crazy at first, some kind of cover or something, but when I saw it in person... all those blokes who might be the Doctor in those pictures probably are, I suppose."

"Possibly," Sarah agreed. "Not all of them, though, surely?"

"Dunno," said Mickey. "There's this one blond dude in a cricket outfit, and I'm pretty sure he's not - he looked entirely too nice and normal."

"No, he is," Sarah assured. Her eyes got wide. "Wait. The Doctor's not always tall! I forgot. There was that little fellow, and the oldest gentleman - Susan's grandfather - he wasn't very tall, either."

Mickey frowned and nodded. "I knew about the little guy, maybe?" He looked up at Isleen. "I'm sorry, we keep interrupting you. What else?"

"He looks like... I dunno. He's very tall, and has interesting hair."

"What color is it?" Sarah asked. "Maybe I can place him. Or Mickey can."

"Is it long? Maybe chestnut?" Mickey asked, thinking of the gentlemen Doctors he'd read about in the files.

Isleen shook her head. "It's ginger," she said hesitantly.

Mickey frowned. "Ginger," he said. He looked at Jackie who looked back at him like he was nuts, so he looked at Donna.

"Nothin' to do with me!" she said, and shoved her long ginger mane over her shoulder. "Nothin' at all."

Mickey frowned. "I dunno," he said. "I just don't know."

"But we were all sleeping," Sarah Jane said. "Which raises the rather interesting point that we are still probably not awake."

The others looked at her in surprise. "I told you so," sing-songed Lucy.

"Ignore her," Mickey mouthed to Martha.

"Can we wake up then?" asked Sarah Jane.

Luke concentrated for a moment, and everyone watched him. The smartest out of the lot of them, he was most likely to have success at this sort of thing. After a moment, though, he shook his head. "It feels too real or something," he said.

"How about pain?" Donna asked, and punched Mickey in the arm.

"Ow!" Mickey exclaimed and rubbed his arm.

"Guess not," Martha said with a laugh.

"I'm drugged," Lucy observed. "I won't wake until morning or until I get let go, if I live long enough."

"That begs a question," said Isleen. "Why bring you? You didn't travel with the Doctor. You don't even like him."

"Of course I like him. He tried to save Harry."

"Wha'?" said Jackie. "Isn't her bloke s'posed to be his worst enemy?"

"Never stopped him," Martha said with a sigh. "You know how he is, surely."

"I guess," Jackie agreed with a sigh. "All right. And Mick and me are s'posed to be in a parallel universe, completely beyond access."

"Whoever did this either doesn't want to trap the Doctor or is after us, not the Doctor," Donna decided.

"Why do you say that?" Sarah Jane wondered. "Because of who's here?"

"Because of who isn't," Donna said with a sigh. "If they can get her mother..."

Martha frowned. "You don't think?"

"I don't know, but it needed saying," said Donna. "Either they're after one of us instead of him, or they're up to something different, because they've only brought me that he's likely to notice and it'll be hours and hours before he comes out of that funk he's in." She shrugged.

"But what does all this mean?" Isleen wondered.

"Only one thing we know for certain," said Sarah Jane firmly. "We can't wait for the Doctor. We have to save ourselves."

* * *


	15. The Dream Catchers

_A/N: **The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7**, and **TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel** are proud to present the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits. _

Disclaimer: Rant, rave, yammer, talk, babble, rave, yammer, rant, yammer, yammer, stew, babble, explode. And FUTHERMORE! We do not now, nor have we ever (yet) owned Doctor Who!

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

_**Chapter 15: The Dream Catchers**_

Today's Author: NewDrWhoFan

* * *

Isleen frowned at Sarah Jane. "I'm not sure that you're right, but... I think maybe I have something to tell everyone."

"What is it?"

"Well..." Isleen twisted a golden lock around a willowy finger. "If you're all asleep, maybe I'm asleep, too, and maybe I was just dreaming I was on the Bridge?"

"It's possible," said Martha. "You were caught first; maybe you're getting more exhausted that the rest of us. What's your story?"

"I think I may know what happened - to me, and to all of us."

Martha's eyes widened. "All right," she said, gently and encouragingly, "why don't you tell us about it?"

Isleen nodded slowly and sat back in her chair, closing her eyes as if in concentration.

* * *

"Sweet dreams." Those were the last words Isleen had heard from her parents each night, for as far back as she could remember.

Dreams were important to her people. They were the voice of the Ad-Sellangia speaking to mortals at the only time their minds were quiet enough to listen.

To this day, Isleen prepared herself for sleep with the traditional gesture, inviting the Ad-Sellangia's instruction. As a child, her mother would make the gesture for her, sweeping her hands lovingly over Isleen's face: eyes, temples, ears, and chin.

Some dreams were, of course, simply remembering the day. But when a person actually walked in the world of the Ad-Sellangia, so much more was opened to them. The dream teachers could show lessons from the distant past, and even glimpses of the future. The truly blessed could commune with each other and with the ancestors while in the Ad-Sellangia's world. And on waking, the dreamer was refreshed and strengthened.

Of course, Isleen had never experienced those sorts of dreams herself. Once, she saw a lady whom her father said he recognized as her great aunt from her description. But mostly, Isleen's night dreams were similar to her daydreams.

There were the evil dreams, as well. Many parents used them as an opportunity to admonish misbehaving children, but Isleen's parents tried to sooth her when they came. Isleen never understood why the Ad-Sellangia would try to frighten her, so she spent those wakeful nights trying discern their true intentions.

After Isleen met the Doctor, or more specifically after her banishment, Isleen struggled with her belief in the Ad-Sellangia. The elders were among the most skilled in walking the dream world. How could the Ad-Sellangia allow them to believe she had been responsible for the Stone's disappearance?

She hadn't been quite comfortable enough to talk to the Doctor about her concerns, but Bob was different. Even though the Doctor had asked him to try and not do so, Bob quite often read what he called Isleen's surface thoughts. She didn't really mind, since the insight he gained made him so helpful and understanding.

After Bob had been with them for about a week, he found Isleen in the library. She had been reading some of the Doctor's books, trying to learn more about the Ad-Sellangia. As usual, he startled her when he spoke.

"I don't think you'll find them in there," he said, sitting in the chair beside her.

"I didn't realize you--" Isleen began, but laughed at Bob's smile. "Of course, you knew that," she said. "But why not?"

"The Ad-Sellangia, as you understand them, don't exist," he said, simply.

Isleen's fears reasserted themselves, but she stamped them down. "They do exist," she said, stubbornly. "They've filled my dreams all my life." Internally, she knew she'd never had the strong, true dreams that the elders experienced, but she refused to believe it was all a lie.

"It's not that it's a lie," said Bob, answering her thoughts rather than her statement. "Just. . . misunderstood."

Now, Isleen was intrigued. "Then, what are they?"

Bob was silent, concentrating, Isleen knew, on trying to put his thoughts into words.

"Can you. . . " Isleen hesitated, wondering if it was rude of her to ask, unsure if it was even possible, "can you show me?"

Bob's face lit up with the biggest smile she'd seen on him yet. "I can," he said, reaching out towards her, before pulling his hand back sharply. He looked worried.

"What's wrong?" Isleen asked.

"The Doctor doesn't want me to," Bob said. "He said I need to develop other forms of communication--"

"Please," Isleen begged. "Just this once, I won't tell," she promised, eager to learn the truth.

He smiled again, then pretended to look for the Doctor over his shoulder. "Just this once," he whispered, then gently took her face in his hands.

Noise. And light. And colors slowly resolving from the light, but changing and swirling and impossible to pinpoint. So much noise, and anger, and joy, and battles. And the pain, oh, the pain, building and blinding and suffocating--

"I'm sorry!" Bob's voice was desperate, and blissfully clear in the comparative silence.

Isleen realized she had slumped over, and Bob was helping her back into her chair.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, "I really didn't mean to show you all that, I didn't know, he's right, I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry. Isleen? Isleen, can you hear me?"

"I'm okay," she said, sitting upright. Bob's hands were still on her shoulders, so she patted one of them to reassure him. "I'm fine, it just was just a lot at once."

"I'm sorry," Bob said again, backing away slowly.

"Don't worry," Isleen soothed. "I'm fine. I really am. But what was all that?"

Bob searched for words again, then shrugged. "The Dream Catchers."

* * *


	16. Bland

_A/N: **The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7**, and **TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel** are proud to present the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits._

Disclaimer: So... I asked for Doctor Who, and they said no. I asked again, and they said no again. You probably think I'm gonna say I asked again and they said no again and you'd be right, except I'm not gonna say it

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

_**Chapter 16: Bland**_

Today's Author: Rynne

* * *

"Dream Catchers..." Luke, puzzled and confused, stood and paced the shadows of the room, talking quietly to himself.

"It seems to me that something that stole dreams is very, very familiar..." Sarah Jane's brow furrowed with concentration.

"Reminds me of the poor Ood," said Donna, frowning and brushing away a tear from her cheek.

"Sounds like the Master," Martha grumbled, over Lucy's speculation that it was like the end of everything.

Mickey, smiling a bit sadly, watching Jackie yawning and shaking her head mostly, said, "It's like leaving."

Martha, glaring at him and brushing at her cheeks, nodded. Isleen and Donna looked at each other in sad confusion, certain as they probably still were that they would never leave. Mickey reached over and patted Jackie's hand.

Sarah sighed. "You find yourself there, one day, just wondering when your life stopped being enough for you, when the world around you became... bland."

* * *

Three years after the Doctor left Sarah Jane in Aberdeen, she met Michael Hall.

He was a technician at a power company in Croydon she'd investigated because she wasn't sure how they were getting all the power they supplied at such cheap rates. Michael had helped her out, happily answering all the questions she'd asked him, and he'd had nothing to do with the aliens behind the power supply (they were actually fairly nice, though--they'd needed electricity for something or other of theirs, but they were happy to provide for the community while siphoning some off for their own use), so she hadn't thought there was any harm in saying yes when he asked her out on a date.

Michael was nice, funny in a self-deprecating sort of way, and courteous. He held open doors for her, but didn't even raise an eyebrow when she held open doors for him. He was even good-looking, with red hair, bright brown eyes, rather adorable freckles, and a gorgeous smile.

But on their third date, he'd asked her, "So what made you get into journalism?"

Sarah Jane took a sip of her wine. "I think it's about the truth," she replied after a moment. "Society is based on truth--it'd collapse if everyone told lies all the time. I want to make sure people know the truth. Lies can be so dangerous."

"So can the truth," Michael pointed out.

Sarah smiled. "Well, yes," she agreed. "But I think we're entitled to the truth. If someone wants to tell a lie to keep other people safe, I think that's an admirable motive, but most of us are old enough to make our own decisions. I'd rather make my decisions based on a scary truth rather than a comforting lie."

"Even when you have to do scary things to get the truth?" Michael asked. "I remember a few of the stories you told me about your time with UNIT. You're really all right with going into danger all the time just for a story?"

"It's not all the time," Sarah Jane said, taken aback. _He sounds so worried!_

He shook his head. "Even a few times," he said. "Is it really worth it?"

_Is it...worth it?_ Suddenly, something inside her...unknotted, she thought, studying the sensation. It was rather akin to the sensation she had when she was investigating and found the spark that would blow the story wide open.

"You don't think it's worth it?" Sarah asked, taking another sip of wine, trying to mask her sudden unease.

Michael hesitated. "I admire you for doing everything you've done, working with UNIT and everything," he said. "I'm just a simple technician, you know? I don't think I could do any of that."

Sarah smiled, but it felt funny to her, and she hoped it didn't look funny to him. "Good thing we need technicians just as much as we need reporters," she said brightly. "I certainly couldn't do your job, after all!"

He smiled back at her, but somehow it didn't seem quite as gorgeous as before.

* * *

Sarah Jane went out with Michael another four times before she caught wind of a story in Cardiff and drove there as fast as she could. On her way back to Croydon, however, her speed came from anger and frustration rather than anticipation.

"Some _paramilitary group_ stole my evidence right out from under my nose!" she ranted to Michael, walking with him in Fairfield Gardens. "And they acted as if they had every right to have it and I had none!"

"So you went all that way for nothing?" Michael asked, taking her hand and squeezing it.

"Not for nothing," Sarah replied, squeezing back, "because I'm going to look this _Torchwood_ up as soon as I can, but I did lose my story."

"There are bound to be plenty of stories around London for you to investigate," he said. "I'm sure you'll find something good soon."

"Oh, of course there are," Sarah said, waving her free hand. "But it's nice to get out of the greater London area for awhile, don't you think? I wouldn't mind more excuses to travel."

He sent her a half-smile. "I'm not really one for travelling," he replied. "It's fun every once in awhile, for holidays and so on, but I'm rather glad I don't have to travel on business. London has everything I want."

"Not much countryside," Sarah commented, thinking, _He doesn't even like to _travel_?_

Michael shrugged. "I'm a technician, not a farmer," he said. "I like the city."

"Yes, so do I," Sarah agreed, "but I like lots of other places as well."

"The city is just fine with me," Michael said.

Sarah Jane closed her mouth, and they walked on in silence.

* * *

After that, she couldn't help but keep looking for the flaws. She didn't want to--not being adventurous certainly wasn't enough to condemn a man--but she couldn't help it.

And once she was actively paying attention, it didn't take her long to realize how, well, _boring _Michael was.

He was definitely amiable, and a wonderful listener. He had things to say about his life and his views, so he didn't just let her do all the talking, but--and Sarah was ashamed of herself when she first thought this--not much he said was very interesting.

He'd never travelled outside of Great Britain, not even to France. His work was too technical for her to understand everything, so when he talked about work, he'd just talk about the generalities, but nothing interesting happened at his job since Sarah figured out the aliens. He wasn't a big reader, so they couldn't talk about books, and he was much more methodical than impulsive.

In short, he was bland.

_Has the Doctor spoiled me for anything else?_ she wondered, after she understood that she just wasn't interested in her relationship with Michael anymore. Not that she'd been in love with the Doctor, of course, but he'd been her best friend for years and there was so much she respected and admired about him. His adventurous spirit, his desire to help people, his intelligence and creativity, his courage, his enthusiasm--

She didn't think a man would have to be just like the Doctor for her to be able to fall in love with him, but she knew now that a man would at least have to be able to hold his own with the Doctor to hold her interest.

And how many men like that were there in the world, this one tiny world?

* * *


	17. Not in Kansas Anymore

_A/N: **The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7**, and **TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel** are proud to present the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits._

Disclaimer: Well, that was a completely lost cause. Took a few days to go and try to wrestle Doctor Who off of them. All I got was a headache, and they kept the Doctor, the TARDIS, the minions, and the rights.

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

**_Chapter 17: Not in Kansas Anymore_**

Today's Author: Kathryn Shadow

* * *

"I think I've got it," Luke said quietly. "I mean... most of the way, I think I've got it. But there's a few details missing, so I'm going to need some help clearing things up."

"I'm confused," Donna admitted. "What've you figured out, and how did you get to be so smart as a little kid, anyway?"

"I can't say," Luke said, looking around the room. His expression flitted rather pointedly past the woman who would be his adoptive mother when she grew up the rest of the way, and Donna nodded. "In a bit, perhaps?"

"Maybe," Martha agreed quietly. "We'll see. But what have you figured out?"

"It's just the alien force that took us, I think I might know what it's doing, and how it's doing it."

"That's amazing," Isleen gushed. "The Doctor was always very impressed with you, even when you were a little boy... oops. I probably..." She looked up at Martha and Mickey, chewing on her lip. "That was bad, wasn't it?"

Mickey frowned. "Probably not the worst that's gonna happen today, I don't guess."

The expression on Luke's face was, however, contemplative and sour. "I'm not sure I understand how we're going to..."

There was a sudden and extremely vivid light that strafed the immediate area of the room with bright white sparks. "Bloody ow!" said a voice that none of them had heard before.

* * *

"Looks like him, really," observed Mickey, pointing out with amusement the woman's bikers' jacket and heavy boots.

"His fashion sense really doesn't ever stay the same, does it?" Jackie wondered.

"I've seen her before," Martha said quietly. "But I can't say, and I think she was older."

"But it's pretty good odds she's one of his companions none of us have ever met, right?" said Sarah Jane. "My goodness, they do keep getting younger."

Mickey looked at her and laughed heartily, remembering the last time he heard her say that. Martha and Sarah Jane looked signals at each other and simultaneously lifted the girl from the floor where she'd landed. It was then, when the back of her jacket was fully visible for the first time, that Donna let out a startled gasp.

"What is it?" Martha asked, after the two women had lowered the girl onto an improved couch.

"I know who she is," Donna said. "I know exactly." She looked at Martha. "Jenny?"

"I remember," said Martha.

"After Jenny, then," Donna continued, with a relieved nod. "He told me about... some people. She's one of them. Dorothy Gale McShane."

"Gordon Bennett, you take that back!" muttered the newly arrived young woman.

"Sorry," said Donna, contritely. "I mean Ace."

"Better," said Ace, and sat up. "Right. Where the hell am I, who the hell are you, and where the bloody hell is the Professor?"

"Sorry," said Mickey, with a smirk he couldn't help. "I'm afraid we're not in Kansas any more."

The woman's eyes flashed.

* * *

"Bloody ow," muttered Mickey, sulking in his chair next to Jackie's and wincing as he lost his grip on the ice pack he clutched to his head.

"Serves you right," Jackie told him, though she did spare him a bit of her usual brash comfort. "Here, sit back, close your eyes."

Ace was talking avidly to the other women, catching up on as many details as she could and frowning rather pointedly at Isleen. Ace, for reasons that were completely her own, had sorted rapidly and randomly through the group and decided who she liked and who she didn't with an arbitrariness that was almost breathtaking. She took after the Doctor, Mickey decided. Donna's description of her seemed to imply that this Ace was like his kid.

Mickey was not in her good books, for obvious reasons. Jackie had her amused empathy. Sarah Jane and Martha were being treated as nothing short of life-long friends. Luke and she were each other's favorite superheroes and, for reasons no one understood, possibly not even Ace, Lucy Saxon had received brusque, careful sympathy. Donna she gave a wary respect, but Mickey would almost bet she'd _be_ Donna when she grew up, if nothing intervened before then. Isleen, however, couldn't seem to win so much as a kind word from the tougher girl.

"...gardens." Sarah Jane was saying.

"Blew up a garden, once," said Ace.

The others grinned at her, dubiously.

"No, really," said Ace.

* * *

The TARDIS rumbled into existence, squishing an unfortunate butterfly. Fortunately, since this was an alien insect whose survival skills resembled that of a cockroach, it just kind of squeezed itself out from under the timeship and fluttered off.

The ancient machine, being a sentimental creature, whirred a telepathic apology. The cockroach-butterfly, clearly not accustomed to such communication, just sort of looked at her for a second. It quickly became even more confused when her doors opened and two strangely-dressed creatures came out and started looking at things.

"The Paxafarian Gardens of Deluun VI," the Doctor announced, using his umbrella as a walking stick before abruptly stopping and leaning over to stare intently at a flower. It flinched slightly; it was a very shy flower, you know; it wasn't used to Gallifreyan scrutiny.

The cockroach-butterfly was positively shocked! It had seen many bipeds in its short, flitting life, but none whose speech it understood. Of course, this was a result of the brief contact with the TARDIS, but even the most intelligent cockroach-butterfly in the universe would have difficulty understanding that.

"It's beautiful," commented the second biped, turning around slowly as she walked, trying to take in as much of the view as she could. She jumped a little when she saw the cockroach-butterfly staring at her with great intent. "Hey," she told it, nettled; "stop that. Shoo! Go on!" She made irritated motions at it with her hands and hoped that it wasn't deadly. You never knew out here.

_Two _bipeds and a giant wooden box that the cockroach-butterfly understood! It was too much; it flew away, its tiny head spinning so that it nearly got eaten by one of the more dangerous plants.

Satisfied, Ace went back to absorbing her visual surroundings. Surprised, she noticed that there were some Earth plants in the midst of all the alien flora; they looked rather dull and boring next to the vibrant colours and dizzying patterns of their extraterrestrial cousins.

"Ace," the Doctor called. Obediently, she glanced over. "Come here and look at this."

She turned and jogged back over to where the Time Lord was still frightening the small flower. "Tythaniakyatrhin brhinaldica."

Ace tried to listen around the dramatically rolled R's and found that she couldn't. She looked at the little, crimson, floppy thing and was surprised at the sudden emotion that flooded her veins. She had the sudden urge to run back into the TARDIS and hide behind the console.

"A sentient, telepathic creature," he continued, apparently unaffected by whatever was happening to Ace. "It projects its emotions as a defence mechanism. The universe is an amazing place, isn't it?" He tapped one of the petals with his finger. His companion shuddered in inarticulate terror.

"I think you're scaring it," she informed him, nearly paralysed.

"Yes," he said, still fascinated. "It seems so." He got up with a disturbingly abrupt movement and helped her to her feet. As he retreated from the plant-creature, the adrenalin faded from Ace's veins, leaving her shaky and discombobulated.

"We should be safe here," he told her. "We're outside the business hours, and they only monitor the perimeter. Just don't get too close to anything and you'll be fine." He beamed at her for a moment.

"You giving me permission to wander off, Professor?" she inquired, grinning a little.

"Just don't blow up anything," he replied, turning to walk away himself. "You'll have to clean up after."

"Or you could save me the trouble and clear it up yourself," she shouted after him happily. He didn't grace her impertinence with an answer; he just flicked his umbrella up, rested it on his shoulder, and walked onwards.

Smiling, she turned around and ran off. This place might not be as much fun without using her Nitro-9, but it was still staggeringly beautiful and she could still enjoy herself.

Thirty minutes later, she still hadn't found the end of the place, and had decided to stop trying. She was walking backwards for a few steps, which was probably a bad idea, come to think of it; but there was simply too much to be seen. If she walked normally, she might miss some of it.

Anyway, since she had a completely normal bodily structure, she did not have eyes in the back of her skull. As she did not possess that particular physical mutation, it is not surprising that she tripped. What is surprising is the fact that she tripped over a vine that hadn't even been touching the pathway two seconds before. What is even more surprising is the fact that as soon as she lost her balance, the tendril snapped around her ankle and yanked, making her lose her balance even more.

She was flat on her back, being dragged by her ankle towards a very scary-looking group of plants. She thought she saw teeth on a couple of them. The pathway was too smooth to grab hold of anything, and she was going too quickly to get a good grip even if there had been anything to get a good grip _on. _All in all, she was not in a very good situation, and she therefore decided to take a page out of Mel's book—she screamed as loudly as she could. If it didn't signal the Doctor, perhaps she could damage her attacker with the sonic waves.

A second passed; she was halfway in the Flowerbed from Hell, the Doctor was nowhere in sight and her scream had only irritated the plants. She could feel them start to reach for her, their little mouth-like flowers searching for her skin.

"Ugh," she interjected. She was starting to get seriously worried now. Wasn't the Professor supposed to be here to get her _out _of these sorts of situations? Had he even warned her about carnivorous plants? She recalled something about "don't get too close to anything", but the reasons behind such a warning could have been anything, really. And besides, she hadn't got close—it had come out of nowhere and grabbed her was what it had done.

Fine. There was only one thing for it; she wasn't going to sit here and wait for the plants to figure out how to get past her clothes. Twisting—difficult, as the little mouths were quite firmly attached now, restricting her movement drastically—around, she managed to reach into her backpack.

Her fingers closed around the metal of a can. She whipped it out with a cry and pulled the fuse with more force than necessary, chucking the can off in a random direction and covering her head as best as she could.

Blistering heat seared her leg for a moment, her ears screamed in protest at the closeness of the explosion, and a shudder went through the network of vegetation pinning her.

She had been hoping that the Nitro-9 would convince the plants that she wasn't worth eating; it had only succeeded in making them angrier. They shifted, yanking her down, wrapping their little vines around her until she was surrounded; their flowers dug deeper and pinpricks of agony exploded here and there as spines punctured her flesh. She opened her mouth to try screaming again and petals filled it in half a second.

Ace was rarely scared.

She was terrified now.

Four hideous seconds swam by as she flailed impotently about amidst the leaves—but finally, as she was about to completely lose hope and curl up into a ball, her grasping fingers met something.

Something suspiciously… umbrella-like. Ripples of high-pitched whines accosted her ears; the plants around her flinched in what she guessed was pain, and before she could even comprehend what was going on the umbrella-handle was moving and she was being pulled out.

More sonic ripples—the vegetation let go for a fraction of a moment.

At times, the Doctor reminded her unequivocally that he was anything but human; this was one of those times. Somehow, in the infinitesimal burst of time during which there was nothing holding her to the flowers, he managed to pull her swiftly out of the garden as if she weighed nothing at all.

Panting, shaking with fright, she tried to stand and failed. She settled for scrambling backwards a little, so that she was just beyond the reach of the malevolent vegetation. The Doctor knelt down next to her.

"Now," he said, "what have I told you about blowing things up, Ace?"

She exhaled and smiled, feeling slightly insubstantial. "Saved my life, didn't it?"

He glanced out. "Yes," he concurred; "it appears to have. But my threat still stands—you have to go in there and fix things now. Replant the things you have displaced. Replace that which is no more."

She knew he was trying to reassure her, to jerk her out of the oddness that necessarily came with near-death experiences, but it was still irritating when he did that. "And I still say you should go in and do it yourself," she snapped at him. "I'm not going in there."

He glanced over. "Hmm," he said thoughtfully. "Perhaps you're right. Let's go and let the other people deal with it." He took her elbow, supporting her as she tried to stand up again. She made it this time, and he gave her a comforting half-hug as they made their way back to the TARDIS.

* * *


	18. After the Ever

_A/N: **The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7**, and **TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel** are proud to present the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits._

Disclaimer: Breaking News!! This JUST in! The Authors of the October Project announce that they do NOT own Doctor Who.

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

_**Chapter 18: After the Ever**_

Today's Author: The Chibi's Are Stalking Me

* * *

"So let me get this straight," said Ace. "She's the Professor's worst enemy's wife?"

"That's what Martha said," Sarah Jane agreed, watching the smaller group by the fire in concern. "I believe that very clever little boy had figured something out before that distraction started over there."

"Do you think it's a distraction, then?" asked Jackie, who wasn't feeling the slightest bit like getting up to move. She spoke so quietly you could hardly tell she'd said a word and her lips hardly moved at all. When she noticed the younger women looking at her with such surprise, she smiled a rather charming, if mischievous smile. "Been a gossip all my life, but no one never overheard anything I didn't want 'em to."

Sarah Jane chuckled lightly. "I've been a nosy reporter all my life," she said, returning the same smile. It was reasonable to assume that if Sarah Jane's and Jackie's paths ever crossed in the real world, they'd be fast friends.

Donna, who had already decided that Jackie might be the reason the Doctor let her get away with bullying him when he needed it, just shook her head in amusement. "Why don't I go check on Isleen? I know Martha's looking after her and all, but there's something not right with the way she keeps passing out."

"Considering we're all asleep," Ace said darkly. "I really wish the Professor would figure this out. Unless he's got some agenda."

"Do you think that's likely?" Sarah Jane wondered.

"Is your Doctor all mystery and secretive and keeping things to himself?"

"No, my Doctor's all hyperactive and childish and shockingly frightening on occasion," Sarah replied.

"My Doctor's both," said Donna, "along with very sad and a few other things as well."

"Well, look, you go check on Opelia over there," said Ace grimly. "I'm gonna go have a chat with Lady Macbeth. One or the other of them's gotta know something."

"I'll go with you," said Sarah Jane. "She trusts me."

"Ace," said Ace, and she and Sarah Jane hurried over to Lucy's pale and silent side.

"I'll just sit here and knit, why don't I!" Jackie snapped. She was very thoroughly annoyed when two knitting needles and a bolt of yarn appeared.

* * *

Donna approached Martha, Luke, and Mickey, intent on the fallen and unconscious Isleen. "Something's happening with her, more than the rest of us," Martha remarked, two fingers clamped to the smaller woman's wrist.

"I think it's time we consider that this whole situation revolves around her somehow," Mickey said, waving a hand to let Martha know her timed half-minute was up. The timer was the only function of his watch that was working.

Luke frowned very seriously. "I think, maybe..."

* * *

"I was wondering, Lucy," said Ace, "what you're going to do, now that you're staying on Earth."

"I dream," Lucy said softly, vaguely. "Not usually like this, though." She smiled a winning, pale, beatific smile at Ace. "Even awake, everything's a little dream or a large one. It's... it's always been my life."

"Do you think the Master could have come up with this?" Sarah Jane wondered.

"This isn't his way," Lucy said, shaking her head. She practically laughed at Sarah. "You know very well, you know you know."

"I suppose I do," Sarah said, looking completely baffled at Ace, who shrugged back.

"Did he have any sort of plan?" Ace wondered, almost against her will.

"He always has as many as the Doctor doesn't, and one more besides," Lucy confided with an impish little giggle.

Refusing to be put off or chased away by the woman's strangeness, Ace faced her determinedly. "What do you mean?"

* * *

Lucy was used to being kept aside, all but forgotten. But that didn't mean it was a nice feeling. Shut away, out of sight, out of mind. Her mind painted the room in a million different ways every day, kept alight by the sunlight that seemed to somehow stream endlessly into the room.

Anyone looking inside would see her, sitting on the bed, hands folded in her lap. Sometimes she'd be smiling absently; large brown eyes sliding in and out of focus as her mind dropped into whatever fantasies or memories it could conjure. A pretty doll, but oh so very broken. But nearly nobody looked in any more. She used to get visitors all the time – well-wishers, get-well-soon-ers, sorry-for-your-loss-ers – but eventually they stopped, leaving her to her illuminated room and thoughts.

The mental creations bounced about the room, one wall to the next, echoing in tones only she could hear. The medication had supposedly been to help – she let them think it did – but they returned with each new thought. But they never really disturbed her, at least not much. The ones that had come closest were the ones of events that had _not happened yet_. Though, moments or days or months later, they invariably would.

The public still loved Harold Saxon, thanks to the residual effects from the Network – UNIT or Torchwood or some other such agency had shut it down a few months after… -- but they just couldn't stay sad forever. Two national leaders had been lost in the 'same day', but in the end, after a few months of mourning and talk of a monument, the only result was an added level of mistrust of all life beyond Earth. That made her sad; the stars were so pretty, how could anyone hate them or the worlds revolving around them?

She missed Harry, often. Falling into her thoughts of Before, coloured in the way things tend to be, so the good sparkles and the bad fades out. She sees herself, sees him, sometimes sees the Doctor – he was quite interesting, actually – and maybe the Toclafane. Her mind edited the memories, making them easier to handle, a mode of self-preservation that had served her well in the past.

She'd be leaving soon, the nurses all said with kindly smiles and approving looks. She was getting better, every day and in every way… No, that was a song. She'd be leaving soon, so very soon. They would let her go, so soon, so very very soon….

….soon…..

…..gone so very soon….

…oh, she'd be gone soon…

Her eyes drooped as she repeated the almost-mantra to herself, lips forming the words but refusing to release them. She sighed and settled onto the bed, some faint part of her mind fretting over…something, but the rest of the neurons called it strange and wouldn't let it through.

Lucy drifted swiftly into sleep, and it was only then that the words stopped their spin in her mind.

* * *


	19. Change of Heart

_A/N: **The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7**, and **TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel** are proud to present the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits._

Disclaimer: In other astounding developments, it has just been revealed that the authors of the October Project have known all along that they didn't own Doctor Who. Is this the start of a major Doctor Who owning shortage?

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

_**Chapter 19: Change of Heart**_

Today's Author: SilverWolf7

* * *

"You know," said Jackie, regarding Lucy with utter sorrow, "I can almost understand her, in a way."

Martha, Donna, Ace, and Sarah Jane were sitting with her now. Luke was talking to Lucy for some reason, apparently trying to fill in the last few holes in his theory. Mickey was looking after Isleen, who seemed to be fading groggily in and out for some reason no one could quite understand. He'd spelled Martha and insisted she take a break and, despite her best intentions on the matter, the young doctor found herself really needing a few moments to get air or something.

"I can't even feel sorry for her," Martha said. "She danced while the world ended. It's not likely she'll make sense to me."

"That's not it," said Jackie, shaking her head. "It's the other bit. Not so much that she's not crazy but seems it or whatever, just that she loves someone."

"It's the only thing that makes her the least bit human, in my opinion," said Donna. "I mean, the Doctor's an alien, but at least he's on the same planet with the rest of us most of the time."

Jackie sighed. "I've never got to see him again, really, I don't even know why anyone would want me here."

"What if someone were trying to find out about the Doctor, though?" said Martha.

"Exactly," agreed Sarah Jane, with a matching expression of inspired excitement. "We'd be the best people to bring, really."

"We know as much about him as anyone can, I guess," agreed Donna, narrowing her eyes and gesturing with one hand at nothing in particular.

"But... I don't get it," said Ace. "We're never gonna tell something that betrays him."

Martha's eyes widened and she gestured everyone closer. After they'd all leaned in, Martha said, "Ace is right, but the thing is... I dunno about you lot, but I don't... erm... always have positive memories."

"Gotcha," said Ace and Donna at the same time.

"So maybe we'd seem less friendly, us," Martha said. "But still..."

"We haven't said anything that would give up his secrets, probably," said Sarah Jane, "but it's been almost completely by accident."

"Well, I admit I don't always like him," Jackie said with a sigh. "But really..."

* * *

She _hated_ the Doctor. There was no other word for what she felt as she looked at the holographic and blurry image of him on the beach in the middle of Norway, while Rose ran to it and they started doing whatever the heck it was that they were doing.

After a few seconds, the image became clear, and she noticed that he looked just as he always had. Well, after the big eared version of him had gone and been replaced by this gangly younger looking man that is.

She was too far away to hear the conversation between Rose and the Doctor, but she could tell by the way that Rose kept her shoulders and head that she was crying through most of it. They never touched either, which was odd, because he looked so real and solid.

It was the no touching thing that did it. Both the Doctor and Rose were touchy feely types of people. They liked to touch others to show their feelings. Especially in the form of shoulder squeezing, hand holding and hugging. And that wasn't just between the Doctor and Rose either. The Doctor had done his fair share of all three to her. _Her!_ The woman who had made it her goal in life to make him miserable when it came to her daughter.

She hated him as he stood there, a goofy look on his face, while Rose cried. She wanted him to hug her daughter, to make Rose feel better, but it wasn't going to happen. She knew that it was just a projected image, but he just looked so _real_.

It would have been kinder if he had kept the image the lined, grainy version of him it had been when he had first appeared there on that blasted beach.

She hated him even more when he disappeared, Rose waiting for a few seconds that seemed to stretch on forever before running into her arms and crying her heart out even harder than she had been during her talk.

He had only been there, only been able to hold onto the image of himself, for two minutes. Those must have been the longest two minutes in the history of time. And she knew that there was no going back now. That was it. It would be the last time she would ever see the Doctor.

"Come on, sweetheart. Time to go home now," she whispered into Rose's ear, as she guided Rose to the vehicle she had stayed near, with Pete and Mickey by her side. To her surprise, she found that there was a sad look on Pete's face, but even more shocked to find Mickey silently crying himself.

This was what the Doctor did, and Mickey had warned her before he had decided to stay in this alternate universe. He left people and never said goodbye.

She hated that the person he decided to come and say goodbye to was Rose.

As she climbed into the jeep herself, she shook her head and sighed, making sure that Rose was both strapped in and comfortably settled against her side. The Doctor must have done something big just to have even gotten two minutes worth of a goodbye to Rose.

On the drive home, she decided that her hate wasn't hate.

The Doctor had done all he could to make sure Rose was alright and settling in and getting on with her life. She had no idea what it was he had done, and Rose wasn't in any state to tell her. Either way, she decided to let that one go.

It wasn't hate she was feeling for the Doctor at all, hadn't been for a long time. With the realisation, she began to cry herself.

No, it was definitely not hate she was feeling.

It was _love_.

* * *


	20. Longing for Stability

_A/N: **The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7**, and **TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel** are proud to present the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits._

Disclaimer: Late breaking news flash! There is, indeed, a worldwide shortage in the ownership of Doctor Who. It seems not one single fanfiction author anywhere can claim ownership. An emerging crisis? More news soon.

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

_**Chapter 20: Longing for Stability**_

Today's Author: Cordelia-Lear

* * *

"I'm sorry," said Martha, brushing tears from her face. "I never knew. I literally _never_ knew."

"He never said," Donna agreed. She reached over and patted Jackie's hand.

The blonde woman forced a smile and rubbed her free hand over her baby bump. "Sorry, it's just the hormones," she claimed. "Makes me all… oh, never mind."

"I'm not sure I understand," said Sarah Jane, but her expression suggested that maybe she did understand and maybe she didn't like what she was beginning to understand. She seemed to shake herself rather forcefully and then she straightened her shoulders. "I'm not sure how you mean negative thoughts, though," she said to Martha.

Martha sighed. "I know what mine were, and where they came from. I know I've grown up since then, but they're still part of my memories and they're still there."

"Like what?" Ace wondered.

Jackie and Donna both tried to shush the teen, but Martha waved them off. "It's all right. Like I said, I've grown up. Plus, I think I understand this time..."

* * *

Martha walked disbelievingly to the expansive window before her.

A mile high chaotic burst of golden orange fire and melted rock burst forth behind the glass partition. The room around them was carefully temperature controlled, but Martha swore she could feel the heat from the chaos outside.

"This is Io, the most volcanically active moon in your solar system. Uninhabitable, hostile, terrifying, basically a death sentence to whoever might be unlucky enough to land here. And your lot turn it into a tourist trap. Humans. Gotta love 'em!" He was smiling fondly, as he stared out at the panoramic view.

Martha felt oddly disconnected from her body as she peered out at the flowing, liquid fire landscape. She had never dared imagine something so beautiful, nor anything so dangerous and volatile. Beyond the chaos and danger, the black of space cut a strong contrast to the glowing planet. It was all so foreign.

She felt so far from home, suddenly. She hadn't really gone anywhere, she supposed, when she considered. She was still within the range if her own sun, but somehow this place seemed so much farther from anywhere they'd traveled.

It was still new to her, this sudden realization of her size in the vastness of the universe. She felt as if she might float away and be lost in nothingness if she didn't hold tight to _something_.

The man beside her wasn't much comfort at the moment. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, _or remembering_, she thought. He was still holding tight, she thought.

Martha couldn't help but feel like the third wheel in this mad dash through time and space. No matter where they found themselves in their unlimited canvas of travel, he was always preoccupied with her ghost. No matter that she was alive, Rose haunted the Doctor.

Martha found herself wondering, not for the first time, just exactly what the famed Rose would do in this situation when he was so far gone into his own world. Still, she supposed he was different before Rose… left? The details weren't clear and she wasn't going to ask.

The mountain closest to the window suddenly exploded with a bright flash. The ground shook beneath her and she grabbed the Doctor's hand. _Hold on_, she thought desperately.

The sudden contact surprised him, and he jumped. He recovered quickly, and smiled down at her. "Not to worry. Completely safe."

She laughed lightly, embarrassed at her reflex. "Sorry," she said.

He squeezed her hand before letting go. "It's fine." He smiled.

She was acutely aware of her lack of anchor. "So, this is Io," Martha said awkwardly, folding her hands in an effort to quench the urge to cling to something.

"Named for one of the many unfortunate lovers of Zeus who angered Hera. Ended up running half mad to Egypt after she'd been turned into a cow," the Doctor explained. "Fascinating mythology, really. She ended up crossing paths with Prometheus along the way, the poor chap who had his liver removed daily, who told her that her line would eventually beget Hercules. She was eventually human again, and married an Egyptian king."

Martha laughed, closing her eyes, and opening her fists, feeling dizzy. "Zeus was never any real help, was he," she said wryly.

"Weellll, he did what he could to help. He changed her back. Eventually. But not until Hera had sent a stinging fly to torment her." The Doctor ran a hand through his hair. "_But_, if it hadn't been for Zeus, she would never have met her husband, Telegonus, in Egypt. So, all was forgiven, I'd say."

The mount closest to the window exploded again, spraying the partition in molten lava. It hardened to rock almost immediately, and the effect left the view freckled and obscured.

Martha took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

"She never had any real choice in the matter," Martha said after a minute. "He was a god, and she was mortal. He could have done whatever he wanted and she would have been powerless…" The room remained silent while each of them considered. "It is just a story, though."

"Yes," the Doctor agreed.

The glass window (which probably wasn't glass, Martha thought) suddenly glowed white. Martha blinked against the brightness.

"51st century window washing," the Doctor said in explanation.

The whiteness was gone as quickly as it had come, and the view was, once again, unblemished. The rivers of magma had been diverted by the previous blast and created new patterns on the moon's surface. The land was just as volatile and beautiful as it had ever been, even with the new surface pattern.

"It's all sort of new out there," Martha said in wonder, suddenly forgetting her slight panic attack.

When he didn't reply, Martha glanced up at the Doctor. He was smiling fondly out at the view. "Always different, that's why I love it. Rose said that it…" He continued his story fondly, but Martha didn't hear any of it.

She stared purposely at the mount in the distance, refusing to acknowledge her shattered heart. Tears clouded her eyes, but she blinked them back. There were other, more attainable things to hold onto, she thought. She took a step closer to the window to glance down at the surface. Always changing, always chaotic, always dangerous. She let out a huff of air and closed her eyes. She longed for some sense of stability.

"So!" the Doctor broke in loudly, "Egypt?"

* * *


	21. The Stunned Silence of the Time Lord

_A/N: **The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7**, and **TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel** are proud to present the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits._

Disclaimer: It's official! Fandom does not own Doctor Who! Doctor Who has been reported to belong instead to a mysterious outfit known only as BBC. A secret Time Lord cult? A group of scientists? Find out here!

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

_**Chapter 21: The Stunned Silence of the Time Lords**_

Today's Author: Kathryn Shadow

* * *

She was awake again, Isleen, and she seemed to be doing very well, now. Luke was comparing notes with Martha now, about some details he was still trying to clear up, apparently. Mickey was with them, but the rest were gathered at the fire place, listening to Isleen complain about the strange dreams she'd had while she was sleeping.

"And I could have sworn I heard the Doctor saying things to me," she said. "But I couldn't understand what he was saying. Something about unraveling the thread?" She shook her head and laughed prettily. "I'm sure it doesn't mean anything. I'm sure I was just dreaming."

"Yeah, it'd sorta make more sense for the Professor to tell you to catch the white rabbit, really," said Ace grimly.

Isleen nodded. "Yes!" she exclaimed. "My Doctor is always speaking in references to things I don't understand. He's very like you."

Ace glared back. "I still think we were on to something about the negativity," Sarah Jane interrupted before Ace could start an argument. "Isleen, can you tell us... have you had occasion to question the Doctor... for whatever reason?"

"I never would!" Isleen said.

"You know what?" Donna offered, "pull the other one. If all else fails, he's got to have talked over your head a time or two, he can't freaking help that."

"She seeks to devour him," Lucy said with a bell-tone giggle.

"Oi! Seven months preggers over here. Don't need images like that to make me nauseous!" Jackie protested. Then, she turned away from Lucy as if the insane woman didn't exist. "Go on, Donna, you were saying?"

"Well, I was just telling Isleen that we understand. I'm honest here." Donna shoved her hair over her shoulder, then raised her hands in a welcoming gesture. "I love the bloke, I do, but I usually wanna kill him at least once a day. You don't have to think we'll look down on you."

"We've been there a bit, yeah?" Ace added, her eyes slightly narrowed and her head tilted to one side.

Isleen sighed. "He keeps everything so secret!" she exclaimed on a frustrated little wail. "He tells me about his friends sometimes, but he hardly ever explains how he does anything! I don't understand if he's doing science or magic or... or anything at all! I don't understand how his ship is bigger inside, how we disappear in one place and reappear in another, sometimes even earlier than when we started. I don't understand anything about... about anything. He won't even tell me about his people!"

"Wow," said Donna.

"Sorry," Isleen breathed quietly.

Ace grinned a lovely, if lupine, grin. "I'll tell you about his people, if you like," she offered.

"Oh, would you?" Isleen bounced in her seat. "Oh, thank you, so very much!"

* * *

Ace had, inevitably, got used to seeing the Doctor doing strange things. This was a good trait for a companion, as the Time Lord was more than a little unstable when it came to sanity; anyone who couldn't handle this would most definitely not survive in the depths of spacetime-- at least, not in the depths of spacetime often frequented by said Time Lord.

Yes, she had grown quite used to such things. This, however, was completely new. The Doctor had landed on his home planet to "refuel", as he'd called it; he had told her to stay inside, and she had, for a while. She could actually do what she was told, but she couldn't help it if seeing precisely how big the spaceship was got a bit boring once your legs were tired. So she had decided to go off in search of him. Well, not so much search as poke her head outside the door. Hopefully, he hadn't got too far.

He hadn't-- in fact, he had only managed to get about six feet away from the patch of pavement where the TARDIS had landed-- and those six feet were mostly vertical. He and three other humanoids-- who Ace assumed were Time Lords as well-- were all standing on ladders, examining the light at the top of the ship. They had taken off the covering and were instead looking at the bulb, occasionally poking it with hyperadvanced-looking technology.

"Perhaps," the Doctor was saying, "we could reverse the polarity-- Oh, hello, Ace. Thought you were going to stay inside forever."

Ace almost brought up the fact that he'd specifically told her to do so, but decided against it. "What are you doing?" she asked instead.

"The lightbulb's out," he informed her. "We're trying to fix it."

"That could work," said a female Time Lord. Time Lady? "Alternatively, we could always--"

That was about the point in time when Ace ceased to comprehend the woman's speech. "Why don't you just replace the bulb?" Ace asked, as soon as the technobabble died down enough for her to be heard.

"No need," the Doctor said archly. "We can fix it. Now, if we could just..."

Again, they lapsed into a language only extremely advanced races and the sorts of people who learn Klingon could understand. Ace sighed, a little exasperated, and stepped back into the TARDIS.

Sometimes, the timeship scared her a little. This was one of those times-- a box of lightbulbs had randomly appeared near the console.

Well, Ace decided, if she were a ship whose owner was completely failing to be logical about changing a _lightbulb,_ she'd be pretty desperate too. She picked up one of them and went back outside. Calmly, she ascended the ladder, unscrewed the original bulb, put the new one in and climbed back down.

"Sorted," she announced, in the stunned silence of the Time Lords. "Can we go explore now?"

* * *


	22. Sick As A Dog

_A/N: **The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7**, and **TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel **are proud to present the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits._

Disclaimer: Behold! The BBC spake in the wilderness saying, "Thou dost not own Doctor Who! Get thee back to thy fanfiction and write!" And the October Project did obey. And it benefited them not.

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

_**Chapter 22: Sick as a Dog**_

Today's Author: Rynne

* * *

"I was never allowed to meet them," Sarah Jane said with a smile. "I was assuming that you're privileged, but I'm now rather thinking it's me."

Laughter went up in the assembled group, everyone gathered together in the center of the room closest to the fireplace now. Everyone questioned Luke, including Isleen, who wanted to know more about his experiences with the Doctor.

Luke shook his head. "I don't really have much," he apologized, "and if I did, you know I couldn't say, because of various parties."

Isleen looked confused, but Mickey and Martha nodded. Since they seemed to be in charge - as far as everyone was concerned - with preventing time line trouble... "Hold on a second!" Donna exclaimed. "I've just realized. Martha and Mickey, you're from the same time I am, right?"

They looked at each other, then shook their heads decisively. "Not exactly," Mickey said. "We're from a little further in the future."

Donna looked annoyed for a moment, and then her eyes widened. "No, that makes more sense, actually. That's better!"

"What?" Jackie demanded. "God, you're like himself's twin sometimes!"

Martha, Mickey, and Luke all snickered about this, which only served to make Donna glower more potently. "Just go ahead, Princess," Ace suggested. "You might be on to something important."

"Well, it's like this. Lucy's stories made it clear she's from Martha and Mickey's present. But I'm not. Isleen's throwing it off, somehow, but maybe traveling in the TARDIS is the difference."

Luke's eyes widened. "I see!" he exclaimed. "I failed to consider, but... Donna, you may have found the missing piece I need."

Isleen beamed at Luke. "You see?" she said. "He's almost as smart as the Doctor."

"Thank you," Luke said slowly. "But do you understand what we're saying?"

Isleen's wide eyed head shake made Lucy snicker. "Everyone present is present at present," Lucy sing-songed.

"Well, not everyone," Donna corrected. "But Lucy, Martha, Luke, and Mickey. So nearly half... Everyone who was here at first, except you, Isleen, but you came from the TARDIS. As I did."

Mickey paused. "So people who came from the TARDIS came from different times, and people who didn't come from the TARDIS came from the present?"

"No," said Sarah Jane. "Because I'm not in the TARDIS and neither is Jackie. In fact, neither of us is likely to see it again."

"Then what's the connection?!" Luke exclaimed. "I figured out that I'm not meant to be here. Whatever brought me was after... after someone else and got me instead."

"No, really!" exclaimed Isleen, alarmed. "I'm sure... you know nearly as much as the Doctor, though. You're very, very clever, surely they'd think you could help them?"

Luke frowned. Ace shrugged. "That's just it," she said. "Most of the time the bad guys don't want the cleverest ones to be there."

"It makes me wonder," Sarah Jane ventured slowly, nervously. "I don't mean to pry, but... I think there's grounds for this question, given the assortment of people present."

"Go ahead," Mickey said. "We're fine for this, honest. Far future time, nothing to worry about!"

"Oh, but..." Sarah sighed. "I really wish K9 was here!" she exclaimed in frustration. "He has a much better way with words than I do."

"Is it that bad?" Mickey wondered. "You can't just blurt it out?"

Sarah Jane stared at him and then suddenly started laughing. Mickey blinked. "Oh, there's so a story there!" Martha said with a wide grin. "C'mon, you have to tell us!"

"I want to hear," several people agreed at once.

"Yes, please," added Lucy.

Sarah Jane sighed, and that seemed to have decided her.

* * *

"How is it going, K-9?" Sarah Jane whispered.

"You were correct, Mistress," K-9 replied. His voice was as quiet as he could make it, but Sarah Jane still winced at its high pitch. "This technology is of extra-terrestrial origin. I will analyse it now."

Sarah nodded, looking around again. The computer K-9 was searching through was correct for the time period, but Sarah had suspected that it was modified for more advanced -- and alien -- programs. Now Sarah and K-9 just had to figure out what this cosmetics company was hiding, and how to prove it without mentioning the illegal search and the anachronistic robotic dog -- Sarah Jane really didn't want anyone to know about K-9, if it was at all possible.

"Well, you just keep searching and download anything related," Sarah told him. "I'm going to take a look around and see if I can find any sort of paper trail." There probably wouldn't be anything left unsecured, but she could always check and make sure.

"Yes, Mistress," K-9 said, and with a pat to his metal head, Sarah Jane stood up and sneaked out.

There was a night watchman, but he only made his rounds every hour, and Sarah didn't think the search would take that long. Still, she forced herself to move slowly and quietly, checking around every corner before she took it, trying not to let her anticipation make her rush and get careless. At least it wasn't too long before she was at the records room she'd noticed when the company representative took her on a tour several days ago.

The room was locked, of course, and Sarah Jane briefly wished for the Doctor's sonic screwdriver before taking out a bobby pin and inserting it carefully into the lock. After a few moments of fiddling -- she'd been practicing -- the door unlocked with a soft _snick_, and opened with barely a creak.

As she'd suspected, after a cursory check there was nothing she could find that was especially incriminating. There were reports of some odd side-effects the cosmetics caused, like itching, headaches, and nausea, but those were the same side-effects that attracted Sarah Jane to this story anyway, so she wasn't much interested in them. Otherwise, the records here indicated nothing particularly off about the place.

It was only what she'd expected, and it wasn't a big deal. K-9 had the significant part of the search, since Sarah couldn't really write a story about aliens and expect to be regarded as a serious journalist. Anything they found tonight would go to UNIT if it was dangerous, and Sarah could just give them the information.

She replaced the files exactly as she'd found them, then locked the door behind her before creeping back to the director's office and K-9. She grew increasingly alarmed the closer she got to the office.

K-9 was talking, and not in the carefully modulated tones he always used on their covert operations. "--cast me off so discourteously," Sarah heard a few feet still from the office door, K-9's high voice somehow sounding less robotic than usual. "And I have loved you for so long--"

"K-9!" Sarah hissed, quickly moving into the room and shutting the door firmly, but quietly behind her. "Stop that! What are you doing?"

"Mistress?" K-9 bobbed his head up and down. "I have encountered a virus, Mistress. It is causing me to have lessened control over my speech functions."

Sarah wanted to swear, but refrained. "A virus!" she muttered. "And it's making you _sing_?"

"That is one instance," K-9 replied. "I believe there will be more. Suggest we remove ourselves, Mistress."

"Yes," Sarah agreed immediately. This was definitely not the time or place to deal with a K-9 with less control over what he said. At least she'd planned for the event of a hasty escape -- the desk was directly beneath one of the windows, and it was a ground floor office. Sarah simply put K-9 on top of the desk, opened the window, then climbed out of it. Once she was out, she grabbed K-9 and pulled him out after her, then closed the window. She had to leave it unlocked, but if she were lucky, the director wouldn't notice it, or wouldn't think it a big deal.

"To the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure," K-9 announced on the way to the car, with the air of a quote. It wasn't something Sarah recognised, though, so she ignored it.

_A virus is giving my dog some strange version of Tourette's, _Sarah thought, with some amusement and a lot of exasperation.

When they reached the safety of the car and the road, Sarah turned to K-9 in the passenger seat and asked, "All right, K-9, what can you tell me about this virus?"

"It appears to be a defense mechanism against tampering in computer archives," K-9 said. "I do not believe it was designed for artificial intelligences. It would have overwhelmed any standard mechanical interfaces from planets within twenty parsecs of this planet, or interfaces from the next three hundred years. I am more advanced, and have only encountered the side effect within my speech centres. I will analyse it now and then attempt corrections. Please do not disturb me, Mistress."

Sarah sighed. "All right, K-9," she said, resigned. "Are you still going to be popping out random quotes?"

"And other knowledge," K-9 said. "That will continue until the problem is corrected. It should be at most two to three hours. Begin analysing now."

The drive back home finished in silence only interrupted once by K-9's interjection of, "For a real-valued function of a single real variable, the derivative at a point equals the slope of the tangent line to the graph of the function at that point," which Sarah Jane barely remembered from lessons as being calculus of some sort.

The walk from the car to the door included, "At night was come into that hostelrye/ Wel nine and twenty in a compaignye/ Of sondry folk, by adventure yfalle/ In felaweshippe, and pilgimes were they alle," which sounded familiar, and was probably Middle English, but Sarah Jane couldn't quite place it. She was quite impressed at K-9's pronunciation, though, especially given the mechanical voice.

Since at this point it was past midnight, Sarah decided to just go to bed and let K-9 sort himself out in peace. The last thing she heard before she closed her bedroom door was K-9 saying something in a language she didn't even recognise.

The next day, she ventured downstairs to make herself breakfast with some trepidation. She knew that K-9 had said that he would have the problem fixed in a few hours, but there might have been other side effects that could have stopped him. What was she going to do if he wasn't fixed? It wasn't like there was anywhere she could take him to get him repaired.

She was just sitting down with her toast and eggs when K-9 rolled into the kitchen. "Good morning, Mistress," K-9 said. "The virus has been eradicated, and my functions repaired."

Sarah closed her eyes in relief, then slid to the floor and gave K-9 a quick hug. "I'm glad to hear that, K-9," she said. "I was worried about you."

"That was not necessary," K-9 replied. "I informed you that I would be able to correct the problem."

"Yes, you did," Sarah agreed, hugging him again before getting up to start on her breakfast. "I was just being foolish."

And hopefully they never would encounter anything that K-9 _couldn't_ handle by himself.

When she finished eating and started on washing the dishes, she asked, "How much information did you manage to get before the virus infected you?"

"I discovered that the technology is Ystrellan in origin," K-9 said. "The Ystrellans on Earth intend to use the cosmetics to spread biological viruses they have been bio-engineering through the human population. The virus is not yet perfected, resulting in the side effects of itching, headaches, and nausea."

Sarah nodded as she dried her plate. "Then we'd best stop them before they perfect it, huh? Well, the Brigadier may be retired and Sergeant Benton selling cars, but there are a few people at UNIT who still know to listen to me. At least they can be back-up while I try to persuade these Ystrellans to stop what they're doing and go home. Thank you, K-9. You've been a big help."

"Thanks are not necessary, Mistress," K-9 said. "I am happy to be of service."

* * *

Mickey smiled. "Tell you what," he said. "I've been the tin dog, too. I'll just blurt it out for you. What do you need to know?"

Sarah Jane frowned, and beckoned Mickey closer. A few moments quiet, very nearly silent consultation, and then Mickey looked up and blinked at her with surprise written across his face. Actually, he'd have looked less surprised that way, Donna thought. "Oh wow," he said at last. "Oh, that's a really scary good point. I'm not sure how dead I'm gonna end up if I ask..."

* * *


	23. Indistinguishable From Magic

_A/N:** The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7**, and **TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel** are proud to present the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits._

Disclaimer: Someday, we will own Doctor Who. We will have staff and writers and coffee boys, budgets, plans, the works. We also expect to win the lottery. We've decided to become a glass-half-full sort of team.

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

_**Chapter 23: Indistinguishable From Magic**_

Today's Author: TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel

* * *

Mickey sighed. Dead. Very, very likely, he was dead and they'd simply forgotten to throw his corpse under a couple shovels-full of dirt was all. The women and the child too young all blinked at him in confusion, except Sarah Jane who looked like he might be her hero. Hence being dead, because Mickey'd long since suspected he'd been conquered when he was in his cradle and would spend the entirety of his life an easy mark for a pleading, faith-filled smile.

Well, he'd promised her a while back that Smiths stuck together. "So, this is tricky, but the thing is... Lucy was married to a Time Lord." He shook himself. "This might be important," he said, not even sure if he was trying to nerve himself up or keep the others from blowing up, not anymore. "Right. Anyone else here been intimate with Time Lords?"

"Eww," said Ace. She didn't shriek it or anything cute or sweet like you expect someone of her age, really. She simply glowered at Mickey like he'd crawled out of something particularly smelly and she didn't want him to think he could follow her home.

"Her question," Mickey said, and pointed to Sarah Jane. Sarah Jane glowered at him and he realized his being her hero privilege had been revoked.

"Look, it's a valid question," said Jackie, shockingly reasonable. "Digusting enough to make you hurl even if you're not seven months preggers, but it's still valid."

Donna and Ace spoke simultaneously. "An' I'm still grossed out," they both explained.

"Look," Donna continued while the others snickered. "I wouldn't have it for a gift."

"Ugh," Ace appeared to agree and she seemed quite green altogether.

Lucy laughed lightly and patted Mickey's hand fondly. "I was, yes," she agreed.

None of the others seemed particularly interested, but Mickey couldn't tell for sure if Lucy's sympathy was an act or not. In the end, he just shrugged and let her get away with whatever was going on in her head. "Asking questions isn't the weirdest thing that's happened to me, ever," he told Lucy.

"Oh," said Luke, who'd pulled his chair closer, finally. "You promised to talk while I try to find her - er, the situation!"

"Yeah, well, I dunno what to do now," Mickey said. "I asked her question, an' I'm only the tin dog... er. Most of the time."

"Well, tell us the story, then," grumbled Jackie. "Maybe... what IS the weirdest thing that ever happened to you..."

* * *

Mickey adjusted his shirt collar nervously, and questioned his sanity.

He couldn't believe he was standing here, about to go off on a mission for Torchwood. Him, Mickey Smith.

He'd read the Torchwood Charter. They dealt with aliens and all kinds of stuff. They'd been formed like a century and a half ago, or something, after Queen Victoria had been killed by a werewolf. A flipping werewolf.

And he's joined them.

If Rose and the Doctor were here, they'd be laughing at him.

Mickey reminded himself that that was why he was here, to prove he wasn't just the tin dog, that he wasn't the same person who'd called the Doctor 'a thing' and clung to Rose's legs like a gibbering idiot. Ricky the Idiot.

Mickey didn't want to be an idiot anymore.

"Mick, you going to move, or what?"

Jake sent him a disdainful look, and Mickey focused on the task at hand.

He knew that it had to be hard for Jake, working with a bloke who could almost be your dead boyfriend, but wasn't, but whenever Jake spoke to him Mickey felt about a foot tall.

The Doctor and Rose's contempt had at least been tempered by a bit of fondness. Jake just thought he was useless.

"So what is this thing?" Mickey asked, clambering into the SUV. Someone had thoughtfully painted 'TORCHWOOD' on the side, just so that everyone knew that they were part of a classified organization, off to do secret and exciting things.

Next to that bloke, Mickey was a genius.

"Weird shit," Jen said vaguely, but succinctly. "Vanishing people, levitating objects, stand paranormal stuff. About a 2.3 on the weird-shit-o-meter."

"The _what?_" Jake blurted, looking confused, but amused.

"Haven't you seen _Men In Black?_" Jen demanded. "It's practically obligatory viewing here. Didn't you wonder why Laurie and James go around in the suits and sunglasses and insist on being called L and J?"

"They get their dress sense from the Blues Brothers?" Jake suggested flippantly.

"I thought they were just trying to look cool," Mickey said.

"Yeah, but through über-geekery, which defeats the purpose donchaknow. They kinda pull it off, though."

Jen pulled over, and reversed a bit.

"Right, we're here," Jen said, opening her door of the SUV. "They're still working on the new employee rulebook, so just let me say, don't do anything stupid, and if you see anything you dunno if you can deal with, run like hell and ring your supervisor. Don't try to be a hero. Heroes wind up dead pretty quickly."

Mickey and Jake trailed behind her.

"Thanks for those uplifting and morally encouraging words," Jake said under his breath.

Mickey snorted.

Jake glanced at him, and Mickey couldn't work out his expression was, but Jen had walked up to someone's front door.

The door opened, and there was an explosion.

Jen was thrown back off her feet, while Jake and Mickey ducked down and crouched behind the low wall surrounding the front garden to avoid the flying debris.

A kid in black robes leapt out of the doorway, brandishing a stick.

"I am Tom Riddle, future dark lord, and you cannot stop me in my reign of terror!" he bellowed at them.

Mickey and Jake stared.

"The hell!" Jake said, in wondering tones.

"Bloody wha-?" Mickey asked.

"Are you deranged?" Jen coughed, from where she was sprawled on her back on the garden path, staring incredulously. "Tom Riddle's a –"

But the lunatic waved his wand vigorously, and a piece of brick that had been blown off the house by the small explosion shot towards her.

Jen managed to sort of scramble backwards on all fours in a hurry, so that the brick hit her in the leg instead of in the head.

She yelled in pain, and the kid laughed scornfully.

He actually looked quite a bit like that Tom Riddle character, Mickey thought. He had jet-black hair and the kind of looks that would make girls go mental over him, if it weren't for his eyes. They were a bright clear red, like raspberry cordial, and had tiny pupils.

Maybe his eyes were what had given him the idea of pretending to be Riddle in the first place, coz Voldemort had red eyes, didn't he? That and the black hair made you think 'Tom Riddle' instantly, if you were any kind of fan. Mickey wasn't likely to admit it to anybody, but when he was thirteen he'd been nuts about Harry Potter. Neither he nor Rose were much into books, but they'd sat around reading the Potter books like they were the most amazing thing either had ever seen.

And now he here he was on a parallel Earth, facing off against a Tom Riddle wannabe.

"Oi, leave her alone!" Mickey hollered, standing. "You're Tom Riddle? You're mental, you mean. You should have your head checked."

Mickey dodged the several bits of brick and broken doorframe that were flung at him, while Jake helped Jen crawl back behind the garden wall.

Mickey ducked down.

"How the hell is he doing it?" Jake asked.

"He's psychokinetic," Jen wheezed. "That sort of power behind though, it can't be natural. He has to be augmenting it somehow, or he'd be tired from the explosion."

"Aug-what?"

"He's boosting his abilities somehow," Jake snapped tersely. "Jen, do you reckon you cracked a rib when you landed before?"

Mickey stood up again.

"You _worm!_" the kid sneered. "You shall fear my power!"

"Yeah yeah, I'll rue the day and everything," Mickey agreed. He was looking the kid over for anything unusual, a bracelet, a necklace, anything.

He'd been hanging around once, watching the Doctor go through a box of random stuff he had stored under the console room grating. Rose of course had wanted to know what everything was, and the Doctor had been happy to explain to her.

One item had been a necklace with swirly things all over it. The Doctor had called it a telepathic amplifier, and said it was designed to improve a Time Lord's ability to communicate mind-to-mind, and to read other people's minds, kind of like having a hearing aid for thoughts, only it was designed for people with moderately good telepathic capabilities already. Then he'd thrown it back in the box saying it was useless really, what'd you want to see people's every sordid thought for, it'd be depressing, and exclaimed in delight over the discovery of a ball that would play alien pop music and light up with different colours while it did so.

There'd been an impromptu dance-off, and Mickey had slouched off leaving them to it.

The Doctor really was an alien, honestly, and maybe about five in alien years.

Now the kid raised his wand again, and Mickey noticed the ring triumphantly. It was a hideous thing, a bunch of small clear stones, quartz maybe, with a big chunk of weirdly-carved obsidian in the middle.

"_Behold my power, lowly muggles, and fear me!_"

"Oh shut up," Mickey told him.

Before the kid could stop him, he ran forwards and punched the little snot in the nose.

There was a crunch and a spurt of blood, and the kid went down without another sound. Mickey eased the ugly ring off his finger, and rejoined his teammates.

"Psycho-whatsit amplifier," he told his mission leader smugly. "See, if you've got pretty developed abilities and know how to use them, one of these'll enhance them. Acts like a microphone or something, only it amplifies your thoughts and stuff."

"And how'd you know that?" Jake asked, visibly impressed.

"I used to travel with an alien, didn't I? Hah, and not just any alien, a Time Lord. You wouldn't believe some of the stuff I've seen."

"Oh yeah?" Jake challenged, but he was smiling a little. "Right, then, Mr Impressive, how about you call up another team while I give our wise and experienced leader first aid."

He threw Mickey a mobile phone.

"Tossers," Jen managed.

"That's us," Jake agreed with a grin. "Oi, Mickey, you might want to secure the future dark lord while you're at it."

"No problem," Mickey agreed as he finished dialing their supervisor's number.

"Sir. We've found the problem. Yeah, pretty sure it's alien. Some kid was going round being Tom Riddle from Harry Potter. Jen got hurt when he blew up his front door and cursed us or something. Yes sir, I'm completely serious."

Mickey saw Jake glance up over the top of the wall, looking amused, and grinned at him.

"I swear, it's all true. We need a team to take him in and check out his house, and an ambulance…"

* * *


	24. Fifteen

_A/N: **The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7**, and **TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel** are proud to present the concluding chapter of the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits._

Disclaimer: Once upon a time, there was a team of 11 authors who all owned Doctor Who. Then, they woke up. It was very, very sad.

Editor's Notes: My sincere apologies - I THOUGHT this chapter went up last week... stupid computers.

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

_**Chapter 24: Fifteen**_

Today's Author: Olfactory-Ventriloquism

* * *

"I've talked to everyone and pooled our information," Luke began, "and I'm pretty sure we all, between us, know exactly what is going on here."

Everyone blinked at the child in surprise. It seemed no one knew what to do with that until Mickey said, "Great, do we know how to stop it?"

"Possibly," Luke allowed, while Sarah Jane and Martha moved to shush him. Apparently, they were concerned about what Luke had discovered. "First, there's the Dream Catchers. Isleen told us about them first."

Isleen nodded eagerly. "I wouldn't even have known about them without what Bob told me," she said. "Oh, wow, Luke, you're almost as brilliant as the Doctor!"

Luke frowned at her and, rather than respond to her comment, continued. "Funny thing is, several of us knew something about the Dream Catchers, we just didn't know the name that way. Jackie knew, from a conversation she'd overheard, that Dream Catchers are like nightmares."

"That's right," Jackie allowed, hesitantly, not sure how this worked out.

"Sarah Jane told me that the Doctor once said to her that the word 'nightmare' comes from a type of creature called 'the Mara'."

Sarah Jane nodded about this and smiled fondly, reaching over to ruffle Luke's hair. The boy laughed in response to this, then continued with his explanation.

"Martha knew, because of something the Doctor had once teased her about, that there's several types of Mara, and they're almost all bad news for someone."

Martha smiled fondly. "I'd knocked over an alien with a bowling pin," she admitted. "He said... well, long story short, I was the aliens' nightmare."

Everyone laughed about this, even Lucy, who was watching the whole thing in fascination.

"Mickey knew, from something he and Rose ran into in the parallel universe, that the Mara can trap people inside dreams and visions."

"That, and they won't go near Rose even if they're forced," said Mickey agreeably.

"Which brings us to the next point," said Luke. "Donna knew that the Doctor is so powerfully psychic that he can both invoke and revoke that gift in others. This implies that someone would need highly specialized knowledge to reach him telepathically."

"Not exactly, I didn't think," said Donna. "I mean, he heard the Ood singing and all, whether he wanted to or not, I assumed."

"You assumed. What you told me means the assumption is incorrect. He could both allow and disallow you to hear what they were singing. It meant he could have blocked it out at any time."

Donna's eyes widened. "Oh! And he didn't want to because of..."

Martha shot her a look, but Donna nodded and waved her off. "You're a damn smart kid," she said. "I'm surprised whoever did this wanted you here at all, since you can patch this together from these little snippets we don't even know we know."

"I was taught investigation by the very best person on Earth for that," said Luke. "So I've got an idea how to ask the right questions. Ace had an answer for me, though, that I didn't realize I needed to ask."

"What?" Ace asked. "That I can blow stuff up if I need to?"

Luke grinned. "I wish you could blow this up, it'd be easier. No, you knew about vampires."

"That's really weird," said Isleen. "Are you sure you meant vampires?" She frowned and started pacing. "The Doctor always says that those things that are magic or superstitions are just fantasy, not real, just scared people trying to make up explanations for things that go bump in the night." She shook her head and appeared very nervous and very pale. "Look, I'm scared and I don't want to talk about this any more, I don't. I want to get out of here as much as everyone else, but I'm afraid of the thought that the gods of my world might really be evil aliens or that Bob might be one and I might be dying right now and no one will ever know, and I wish there was something else going on, I wish it so much, can't we PLEASE change the subject?"

Apparently, they could. There was an enormous bang and a brilliant flash of white light, and then there was a naked man standing right in front of the fireplace.

Isleen started, screamed, and then passed out again.

"Hello," said the naked man, "I'm Captain Jack Harkness."

* * *

"Honestly," complained Martha as Jack came back to the fireside. "Only you could appear some place mother naked and then try to start a conversation."

"What's going on here, anyway?" Jack asked, straightening the blanket-toga Martha made him wear. He could, definitely, have conjured up something better, Martha was sure of it. He was probably just hoping it fell off inappropriately.

"Luke was explaining everything," Donna said.

"You scared me!" Isleen exclaimed. "You're all terrifying me."

"Who's she?" Jack asked.

"Isleen. The new blonde," Martha said, and waggled her eyebrows at him.

Jack snickered. "Now, now, Martha. We're all trapped in a dream world. We can't just stand here_ blogging_!" No one else had any idea why the two of them collapsed shoulder to shoulder onto a sofa, laughing.

"Anyway!" Donna exclaimed, "I think Luke was telling us about..."

"It's ridiculous!" Isleen interrupted. "With everything that's going on to be frightened about, and he wants to talk about..."

Jack looked at her and gave her his most fetching grin. "Don't worry so much," he said charmingly. "We're gonna be fine, just let the kid talk." He reached over and patted her hand. "And if he bores you, I'll entertain you myself in a moment."

Ace rolled her eyes. "What about the vampires, Luke?" she asked.

"They couldn't get to you if you held certain thoughts, you said. You told me that the Doctor had to hurt you very badly to allow the vampire to get to the evil thing, because you believed in him."

"Yeah, but how is that applicable?" Ace wondered.

"I'll get to it," Luke promised. "I didn't mean to bring it up, yet, but it was being a problem because of... well, I'll explain in a bit, I guess. Final thing is what Lucy told me. She knows more about Time Lords than the rest of us, really. She told me that there were certain species that were the sworn enemies of Time Lords historically, besides the... the... those evil pepperpots."

"Right," agreed several people at once.

Mickey quickly shoved the conversation on its way by asking, "What sort of enemies?"

"Well, there were things like the Racnoss that..."

"Met them," Donna grumbled an interruption. "Moving on."

Luke looked sheepish. "Sorry, right. Most of the species that were Time Lord enemies were that way because the Time Lords did things to them or they got into something that the Time Lords were sworn to defend. But there were a few species out there - again with the vampires, I'm afraid - that considered the Time Lords prey." Luke frowned. "Not necessarily just the Vampires, other species as well, although most of them have been lost. But Lucy was able to tell me about this, having heard it from her husband. The species that usually considered Time Lords food could also eat other creatures, of course, and would in a pinch, but they considered Time Lords the best possible food."

Martha, Donna, and Mickey looked at Jack, who shrugged and looked at Luke. "And you know how to get us out of here?" he asked intently

Luke sighed. "I don't think so," he admitted, looking defeated. "I thought I did, but I don't guess I do after all. But thanks to everyone's information, I know how we got here."

Jack smiled his very best smile. "That's great kid," he said, and he almost managed to not sound completely condescending. Only Luke actually saw him wink at the boy.

Jack turned the charm up a notch as he focused on Ace. "What's for fun around here?" he asked smoothly.

Ace glowered and pulled a grey canister from her pocket. "I can think of a new pastime," she said.

Jack, recognizing explosives when he saw them, backed off, hands up in placation. "Alright. No fun. Gotcha."

"Jack!" Martha snapped. "Will you please quit messing around?! God, if you're gonna be so useless..."

Jack turned the smile on her. "No, Martha, I'll behave. I've not even ogled Donna, yet, and she's great for ogling. Give me some credit, all right?"

Donna blushed brightly at this statement.

"I'll tell you what, while we're thinking, I'll entertain us all with a story. Well, it's not completely new. Mick here's heard it before, but it's still good."

Mickey grinned. "Oh, god," he said, with a groan.

* * *

He had graduated from the Academy that morning. At fifteen hundred hours, Jack and all of his classmates had been declared Time Agents. Hats were thrown; cheers were called, and they were dismissed to celebrate their new status.

He threw an arm around a young man called Brakovitch, just as he was called Jack. "You ready to do this?" Jack asked with a grin.

"Jack, this really isn't necessary," Brakovitch said nervously, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

"Yes. It is," Jack said seriously. "You haven't had a single drink your whole time in the Academy. No more excuses. If you're going to be able to blend in with the locals, you have to be able to hold your liquor." As Jack spoke, a group of other graduates joined them, nodding. Their expressions ranged from sage to mischievous to down right dirty.

The group of fifteen ambled down the hall, chatting, bragging, and calling out to friends in other groups. The Academy had rented the same space station it did for every graduation. Every year it vowed to use a different one, but it never did. The graduating class produced nearly fifteen hundred Agents this year, but there was only one bar, and it could only hold 300 people.

Jack squeezed his way through the bar, glad he was so intimate with his classmates, or it might have been awkward the way they were pressed together. Throwing a wad of bills on the counter, Jack managed to convince the bartender to sell him four cases of hyper-vodka, fifteen bottles per case.

Victorious, he rejoined the group, and they began the trek back to their group of rooms. They had all traveled together in a beautiful ship that Marsters had confiscated from some smugglers, but hadn't been able to pilot, so Jack had been kind enough to take it off his hands in a game of poker. They had gotten rooms near where they parked for convenience's sake, forgetting that they were as far from the bar as possible. It was a good three mile walk to their rooms. All of the rooms had connecting doors, so they arranged an impromptu block party.

Hours wore on; many of the guests brought their own drinks, so they weren't forced to get more. Evening faded into the morning of the fifteenth day of Aglet, the fifteenth month of the planet this space station circled. The planet was the fifteenth to orbit Terrik, the fifteenth star in the system to unify.

People paired off, or tripled off, or in one case, as many as seven people headed off to a private room together. Eventually, only the original group of fifteen remained.

And then, it all went to hell.

They ran out of alcohol.

"I'll get some more," Wilson offered in a slur.

Steins laughed. "Please. You're so drunk that you'll break half the bottles before you get back."

One thing led to another, and before long the whole group of fifteen was staggering along the hallway.

Despite their inebriated state, the group of Agents navigated the space station. Even when sober, this was a feat as the craft was less organized than a prairie dog city. Hallways big enough for ten men to walk abreast dead ended into rabbit tracks that Jack and the others had to walk through sideways. Fortunately, most of their route consisted of taking the appropriately named Main Street, which was the largest, straightest, and most used hall on the vessel.

The bar was much less crowded, now, as most of its occupants had wandered off for other entertainment. Jack noticed that a few of them hadn't bothered to wander off before starting these entertainments and considered joining them. He shook himself. He was here to continue in Brakovitch's education, there would be plenty of time later to revisit his options.

After the group restocked, they left the bar. Only Jack noticed the chiming of the clock telling him it was in the morning, fifteen hours after they had graduated. They walked down the hall, half of them holding the other half up, and a few of them holding up the walls.

But they sobered up in a snap when a large pipe burst, spraying them with a dark, acrid smelling liquid, that they knew was a mixture of bacteria, fungi and acids that was used to reduce organic matter into easily barreled mush for transport to a waste management facility.

The pipe was well pressurized, gushing at fifteen gallons a second. Before they could do much more than blink, all of them were soaked. The only think that kept them from being eaten alive was the fact that the pipe was just at waist height. So, the long-sleeved uniforms were ruined and would soon be rather sticky goo, but the group snapped into action like a well-oiled machine when Jack yelled, "Soldiers, strip!"

In seconds, they all stood naked, but some of the liquid had seeped through.

"What a waste," Jack muttered sadly, and he pulled the cork out of a bottle of hyper-vodka with his teeth and began to rinse off the last of the bio-hazard. Everyone else followed his lead, and no one had more than first-degree burns that would heal in a day or so.

Shaking his head at the empty bottles, and his steaming uniform, Jack said, "You know we just broke the record, right? We liquefied our first official uniform as Time Agents in fifteen hours." He grinned at his comrades. "Man, they are going to kill us."

With no other option, the group continued on, every one of them in their birthday suits.

They walked in silence until the road they were on dead-ended into a smaller road named T-Junction Street.

"It's left to get to Main Street, right?" Wilson asked.

"Yup." Jack agreed.

"Wait." Brakovitch said softly, stopping them all in their tracks. "If we go right, we'll still be able to get back to our rooms. We just won't have to be seen by everyone."

"Who cares who sees us?" Jack asked. "Most of them have seen it before. Besides, we should be commended for our quick thinking in imminent danger."

"Please?" Brakovitch asked, begged really. "Erin might be out there."

Jack paused. Brakovitch had been in love with Erin for over a year, to the point of an almost insufferable shyness. Honestly, the boy needed to shag her, get it out of his system. Jack looked around the group and was met with indulgent smiles and shrugs.

He looked back at Brakovitch sternly. "Let me get this straight. We're in unfamiliar territory, and you want us to take an unsanctioned route so that you don't get embarrassed?"

Brakovitch nodded timidly.

"Sounds good to me," Jack said with a grin. "Right it is."

Within ten minutes they were well and truly off the beaten path.

"Here," Wilson said after a bit of meandering. "I recognize this street, it comes out near us."

Jack looked down the crooked Fifteenth Street. It looked more like a service corridor than anything, but what the hell. You only live once.

Marsters tripped over a cord, and Steins managed to hit his head on a low hanging pipe. Wilson dodged a steaming vent right into the wall. It was the sort of thing he'd never live down.

"You ran into a wall." Jack stated flatly, while nearly everyone else dissolved into laughter.

"I could've been scalded!" Wilson protested.

"A wall." Jack repeated, a smile twitching his lips. "You're hopeless, you know that?"

"Whatever, Jack. What about the time you ran into that blue box?"

"I swear that thing came out of nowhere."

"Uh-huh."

The rest of the walk was uneventful until they reach an abrupt, almost ninety-degree turn.

"Hey, look," Marsters called. "Ugh. When was the last time they cleaned this place?"

The rest of the group rounded the corner. Some sort of moss had infested this section of the wall, coating it in brown fuzz.

"What are these, coat racks?" Steins asked, gesturing towards two tapering, off white protrusions from the wall at head height. They were round and about fifteen inches long. They reminded Jack of something, but he couldn't think of what.

Steins did a few quick pull-ups on the things for no other reason than to show off in the buff. There was a low rumble.

Tusks. That's what those things reminded him of, and that wasn't moss, it was fur. The wall shifted and moved back to reveal that what they had been examining was the side of a creature that was probably fifteen feet tall when it was able to stand to its full height. Several tusks came out of its head at odd angles.

Jack began to back up. The thing swiveled its enormous eye to focus on him.

"Woah there, big fella. Nothing to do with me."

The animal roared. Despite being hunched over, that thing could _move._

And they were running: all fifteen of them, naked down the corridor. They were close to their rooms now. More importantly, they were close to the ship, now. Wilson called out directions for those who had been too drunk to remember were they'd gone.

"Right!" He yelled out as a yelp and a crash told Jack that someone had fallen.

He turned to find Brackovitch on the ground and ran back, grabbed him under the shoulders, hauling him to his feet.

"Damn your girlfriend; I knew we should've turned left!" Jack yelled, pulling his friend along.

They were the last to reach the ship.

"Doors!" Jack yelled, handing Brockovich over to Wilson, and dashing to the ship's controls. He kicked her into overdrive and didn't stop until they were fifteen light years away.

* * *

Everyone was laughing. Mickey made a point of laughing just as hard as the others, even though he knew the story was a little different this time. "Fifteen naked Time Agents," he said through his laughter. "Did the others look as ridiculous as you do now?"

"Hey, I'm beautiful," Jack said. "What do I have to do, Mickey? Beg you fifteen times on my knees?"

Mickey laughed, harder. "I wouldn't have you with fifteen letters of recommendation, Jack."

"He could get them," Martha said. "And fifteen eye witnesses to confirm, too, probably."

"What can I say?" Jack asked. "I'm fifteen times better than the average man!"

Isleen shrieked, suddenly, and the room went quiet.

"Fifteen decibels too loud," Jack claimed.

"Outsmarted by a fifteen year old kid?" Luke offered.

"STOP!!!" Isleen screamed.

"Good one," Jack said, with a grin.

"What's happening to her?" Ace wondered.

"About fifteen really bad things," Jack said, shockingly cold all at once. "You see, Luke here had it figured out, all right. Isleen's your Dreamcatcher. She's a member of a species of Mara that used to try to attack Time Lords if they could get them."

"I'd never!" Isleen exclaimed, fading in and out of view as she spoke. "The Doctor's my friend, I'm not a Dreamcatcher, I'm..."

"They have a tendency to believe the fifteen fantasies they dream up," Jack said. "Sort of, anyway."

"Not fair!" Isleen cried out. "What did I do to you?!"

"You snatched all of these people," Jack shot back. "Companions of the Doctor's, and he's very fond of every one of them."

"What do we do, Jack?" Martha demanded.

"Fifteen. Doc says think about fifteen. It's what Luke was trying to put together - you can disrupt a psychic field if everyone in the field thinks about the same unrelated thing. We picked fifteen, because it's the psi frequency she used or some such, and it's easier to think about a number than, say, a person on this level. You can think about fifteen anything, fifteen naked Time Agents, fifteen explosions, hell, fifteen fuzzy bunnies if you want. As long as there are fifteen."

"Please stop, you're killing me," wailed Isleen.

"You guys had everything you needed," Jack said. "You'd've figured it out in a bit, but we were afraid something would be in serious danger. Jackie, if we'd known you were here, we'd've tried to come sooner."

"I thought she took us!" Sarah Jane exclaimed, pointing at the pulsing, fading Isleen.

"She did," said Jack. "And she used what she took from each of you, your stolen dreams, to get more of you. She got Mickey and Martha first because they thought about her prey in the same time frame she was in. She caught Lucy next, and Lucy had... intimate knowledge of a time traveler." Jack grinned. "Doc says there's a reason old magick was invoked by sex, and the Mara may be one of those reasons. It gave Isleen the ability to thread her dream through time. Crossing the parallel required the energy build up she'd pulled from all of you, but it was easier because she had Mickey, who has been a citizen of both universes." Jack stood up and tapped Isleen.

She snarled at him and exploded out of her gentle blonde form into something huge, slavering, and monstrous, and Jack snickered at her. "Level fifteen temper tantrum?" he asked. "Everyone keep concentrating on fifteens."

"I was just past fifteen when I made a time storm in my bedroom," Ace said.

"I'd be fifteen if I were a normal kid," said Luke.

"I'd like to have at least fifteen children," said Lucy.

"That's wrong in at least fifteen different ways," said Martha.

"She took all the rest of you," Jack said, "and I think she didn't mean to get Luke. I'm betting she meant to get... um... Luke's mother. But since the boy was sleeping in the same house and since he's slightly psychic, she picked him up by mistake."

"It's true," the hideous thing that used to be Isleen wailed. "Please let me go. I'll free you all and never bother you again."

"If I were the Doctor," Jack said, "I'd probably believe you."

"But you aren't the Doctor," said Mickey. "Not in fifteen million years."

"Tell me about it," said Jack. "Besides, I'm slightly psychic myself. You thought you might have the energy you needed to catch the Doctor's sleeping mind, and you went after him. But I was with Mickey when this all started, so I knew something was up and when I couldn't figure out what was going on, I called _him_. You've been trumped from the inside and the outside."

"I'm letting you go!" the thing that used to be Isleen bellowed.

"No, you're not, that's just it," said Jack. "I can sense you. Luke can sense you. We both know there's about fifteen different ways you could let us go, but you're trying to hide your presence. The Doctor altered my brain patterns to mimic him about fifteen different ways."

"Stop that," the creature whimpered.

"Fifteen," Jack said, coldly.

"Friendship strong enough for fifteen people," Sarah Jane said.

"Fifteen different ways I'm gonna pummel that skinny twit when I get out of this," said Donna.

"Fifteen good reasons to blow things up while the Professor's not looking," added Ace.

"Fifteen thousand reasons to love him," said Jackie, softly. "In spite of everything, in spite of us. Sometimes even in spite of him."

"Fifteen connections to the Doctor in one room," said Jack. "You never thought you were building your own prison with this collection of people. There's nine of us, but we invoke more. We invoke his safety, to the fifteenth power."

The pulsing, wailing creature began to swirl into a huge cone of wild, iridescent, multi-colored light. As it swirled, it shrieked horrific and terrible protests, and curses in a thousand languages.

Ace grinned. "And we're fifteen times cooler than you, anyway."

"And fifteen times smarter," added Luke.

"And fifteen times meaner," said Jackie, fiercely.

"And fifteen times prettier, if you ask me," said Lucy vaguely.

"And fifteen times braver," Mickey offered.

"And we love him, fifteen times over," Sarah Jane said, her usual fierce stubbornness shining on her face. "So there!"

The vast cone of swirling whiteness rose to an intolerable brightness. The noise rose to a hideous, ear-shattering shriek.

There was a thunderous, titanic detonation.

Then silence.

* * *

_To be concluded..._


	25. Epilogue: The Morning After

_A/N: **The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Cordelia-Lear, GSRgirlforever, Isis the Sphinx, Jessa L'Rynn, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, Rynne, SilverWolf7**, and **TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel** are proud to present the epic epilogue of the Second Annual Doctor Who October Project._

_Each author has one character assigned, in the mode of the Canterbury Tales. Jessa L'Rynn edits._

Disclaimer: If you take 11 people and you give them 11 holiday wishes, and all 11 of them wish to be the owner of Doctor Who... Even taking into account their vastly different backgrounds, diversity, originality, persistence, pleading, and the cliched 'good things could to those who wait'... Even after all of that... You'd still have 11 people who love to write but don't own Doctor Who.

* * *

**The Companionable Tales**

_**Epilogue: The Morning After**_

Today's Author: Jessa L'Rynn, with help from everyone!

* * *

Luke Smith woke with an abrupt start, gasping for air and completely confused. He stared around him at his darkened room, wondering if that dream had been as real as it seemed.

He knew he couldn't really talk about the dream, not even to Sarah Jane. She'd been there, younger but there, and he couldn't help but think that meeting the younger her had cleared up the distress that caused the dream in the first place.

The truth was, he'd been wondering if the Doctor might have something to do with the reason Sarah Jane had been out so much lately. Much to his surprise, he'd discovered he resented the idea.

Luke wasn't sure what to make of that unexpected emotion, but he knew now that Sarah Jane had been a friend of the Doctor's for far, far too long for him to resent any of it.

Plus, if anything about that dream was real then he, Luke, had been one of the important keys to unravelling the whole mess. That meant he'd helped save Sarah Jane and all her friends, which meant he was someone important, too.

Luke wasn't sure what made him go to Sarah's room and check on her, but it felt right, just like it had felt right that, all through the dream, he had called her his mother. Slipping into her room with only the night light and the full moon for a guide, Luke smiled at the figure curled on the bed.

She looked almost as young as the Sarah from the dream. Luke edged closer, trying not to disturb her, but Sarah Jane's instincts had always been good.

Where she would have once woken with a start, however, she woke with a soft smile, almost as if she'd been expecting him. He wondered if she remembered or if it was something else, some facet of human behavior that he had yet to grasp.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sarah Jane offered.

He didn't want to talk about this particular dream, not really. But he did want to talk about... "I dreamed you went away without me. But this time, you didn't come back."

Sarah Jane scooted over on the bed. "Sit down," she instructed. "I think we do need to talk."

* * *

Ace McShane, she of the Dalek-destroying baseball bats and the deodorant cans with Richter scale measurements, woke with the Doctor hovering over her, looking annoyed and concerned. "Now, what was all that about?" he asked, blue eyes intent, his accent thick and strained with worry.

Ace smiled. "Had a run-in with Ebenezer Scrooge or something, Professor," she apologized.

"I beg your pardon?" the Doctor questioned, rolling the Rs around as if morning depended on it.

She smiled to be back in his company. "S'all right, Professor," she said. "It was all ghosts of the past, present, and future. A lot of it didn't make any sense, but I'm fine now."

"Are you absolutely certain?" he insisted, and Ace could just tell he was somehow scanning her vital signs.

"For me, it was just a dream," she said with conviction.

"I always meant to meet Charles Dickens," the Professor mused thoughtfully.

Ace shrugged. "Don't know anything about him," she apologized. Shaking her head, she gave a small chuckle. "Gotta tell you, though, this bloke you're gonna travel with, Rickey, Mickey, something like that?"

The Doctor blinked, then gestured her to go on, a curious smile warring with a very obvious worried expression on his face. "Go on," he said.

Of all the things she could tell him, Mickey seemed the most harmless and since she'd never forgiven the young man for the Wizard of Oz references, Ace smirked before she delivered her judgement. "He's an idiot."

* * *

Sarah Jane Smith sat up in bed with a small scream. Frantically, she reached for her alarm clock, only to discover that she was definitely going to be late.

She couldn't believe, after all this time, that she'd dreamed up anything to do with the Doctor, really. Every single time she thought she was getting over all of this...

But there wasn't time to dwell on any of it. She had received a message and, like every other reporter worth her salt, she had an important place to be tonight. Specifically, there was a wall that was coming down, and she needed to be there to help it along.

* * *

The woman sat by the window, her strange, distant eyes looking out on the world with fascinated disdain. Cool and blonde and immaculately styled, she seemed untouched, above and beyond anything that happened to her.

When she woke so very late, her carers thought nothing of it, which fact Lucy Saxon considered very useful to know. No one knew her like Jack did, like Harry had. These new people didn't understand who she was, saw only a fallen hero's widowed bride.

She could have dwelt on the dream and what it meant. She could have focused on what it felt like to be a mad prophet. She could have done many, many strange things, but there simply wasn't time. Things were happening very quickly now.

She looked intently at the bowl of soup they'd brought her for luncheon and smiled at it with delight before turning back to the window. "Soon," Lucy whispered, tapping out a soft rhythm on the clear pane of glass before her. "So very soon."

* * *

Jackie Tyler woke to find herself in the Torchwood Infirmary, a team of doctors, nurses, and midwifes hovering over her, frantic. "What's wrong?" she demanded, a wired hand reaching desperately to stroke the bulge of her pregnancy.

She was covered in monitors, she realized, as a nurse started, tersely, to update her. The baby was fine. Jackie seemed to be exhausted but getting better. "When the staff couldn't wake you, we were called in," the nurse concluded.

"Where's Rose?" Jackie pleaded.

"I'm here." Rose carefully threaded her way through the crowd around Jackie's bed, reaching finally to take her mother's hand. "Pete's on his way," Rose promised. "He got stuff in Germany, but we're working on a teleport solution."

"Aren't you supposed to be working?" Jackie asked. She seemed to remember someone saying something about star deaths having increased lately, or some such. Maybe it was decreased? Either way, Rose was supposed to be working on a way to get that sorted. she thought.

"You're much more important now," Rose insisted.

Jackie meant to talk about the strangely real dream she'd had, about the fascinating crowd of people who Jackie had never met, but who mostly seemed to know Rose, at least by reputation. However, the look of such convicted devotion in her daughter's face distracted Jackie.

She smiled up at Rose, who smiled back. Then, suddenly, alarms started going off. "What's that? Something wrong?" By the time they'd decided the alarm had merely been set off by her emotional response, Jackie had forgotten the alien dream almost entirely.

* * *

Donna Noble blamed the Doctor, in the loudest tone she could possibly manage, for the the whole stupid, outrageous thing. The Doctor wasn't the slightest bit surprised.

To beg, borrow, or steal her forgiveness, he decided to try to show her something awesome. Luckily, instead of where he intended to take them, they ended up meeting Agatha Christie.

* * *

"Isleen is a variation of an old Gaelic word meaning 'dream' or 'vision'," said Ianto Jones, thunking a heavy book down on the conference room table and giving a bland half-smile to his attentive audience. "Aisling is the original word, of course. It also means 'to lose oneself,' which seems to be exactly what would have happened if you stayed."

"Thanks, Ianto," Martha Jones said, smiling kindly towards her colleague. Then, she turned back to Jack. "Figured this out all by yourself, did you?" she asked, a little crossly to be sure.

Jack shook his head in frustrated denial. "He left me a message. I didn't even realize it until... look, it's a very long story."

"I'd like to know why I'm involved in this," demanded Mickey Smith, glaring in supreme frustration at everyone in the room. That number was pretty small, considering that Ianto was sidling toward the door and Gwen had long since gone home. "You know I'm done, Jack," he said. "But you just had to show up at my place, ask me questions, threaten me with blackmail. If I existed, I'd have you done for harassment."

"There's a queue," said Martha, playfully. "And Ianto leads it, so you'd have to wait."

"Besides, no one would believe it," Jack said. "I mean, who'd want to be rid of a gorgeous guy like me?"

Mickey sputtered while Jack laughed, then ruefully shook his head. "Sorry, Mick," he apologized. "It's just something about you brings out the absolute worst in me. Dunno why."

Mickey sighed and scrubbed a reluctant hand across his face. "All right, all right," he said, regretfully. "Look, how did you work it out?"

"You guys almost had it," Jack said. "I wasn't lying about that. The problem was, from the scans we were taking from you and Martha, your brain waves were starting to sync on minor ticks. Once the major ones also matched, we'd know you were lost. But like I said, he left me a message for exactly this circumstance. Don't know how he worked it out, really." Jack shook his head, glaring at the back wall of his own conference room.

"Were you telling the truth about who she was?" Martha asked.

"Well, yeah," Jack said. "Her kind can live off ordinary dreams of ordinary people for centuries, even millennia, flashing from one site to the next. In that, they're just like the Mara, they feed on the patterns of the unconscious mind."

"Do you think she's still out there?" Mickey asked suddenly.

Jack shrugged and shook his head. Finally, however, a stern look from Martha curbed the lying denials. "Truth is, I don't know," he admitted. "However, once they commit to take as much as she did... well, she couldn't have survived taking all of you and releasing all of you at once."

Mickey seemed to think about it for a good long time. "Sucks," he said, finally.

Martha and Jack both stared at him, and then Martha nodded. "She put everything into trying to capture him, and she lost everything for it."

"I'd like to know why she even tried to grab you," Mickey added, pointing at Jack and glowering.

"You and Martha were her anchors," Jack said. "You were the first she took, the ones she took from real time. Making my brainwaves mimic his - which isn't as hard as it ought to be, at least if you can't die and aren't particularly worried about pain - and being around you two made her think he'd shown up to rescue you."

"Is he too busy to rescue us?" Mickey asked. He tried not to sound resentful, but Jack could hear it clearly and saw from her expression that Martha could too. "Or is he afraid to tell me what he did?"

Jack shook his head. "I think it's a bit more serious than that, honestly," he said with a sigh. "There's something going on with him."

Martha shook her head right about at him. "Don't expect me to talk him down. I'm a doctor, not a temporal philosopher."

They all three laughed about this for a moment, then sobered abruptly when Martha asked, "Do you think he's okay?"

Jack frowned, then squared his shoulders, sitting up straight and strong. "I'm sure he's fine," Jack said firmly. "And if we don't hear from him in the next few months, I'll go look for him."

"You can do that?" Martha wondered.

"Time travel and the unfortunate tendency to live forever mean I can, yes," said Jack. "I'd go now, but I'm afraid I'd miss your wedding."

"You're not allowed to miss my wedding," Martha informed him sternly. "You're just not."

Jack smiled. "Wouldn't dream of it," he said sententiously, which made Martha and Mickey both groan.

"Glad you're getting married," Mickey said in a wistful tone. "But if he's ever not good to you, you let me know." He shrugged. "Can I go home now, Jack?"

Jack stood up and stared at Mickey, intent and considering. "You sure you won't sign up?"

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Look, it's like this. I don't want anyone to know I've even been here. I'm out of this, now. I'm going to America and when people start blaming stuff on aliens, I'm calling them nutters!"

"That's evil," Martha said with a small laugh. "You _know _better."

"Yeah," Mickey answered, "but it's either that or start up a recovery program for people who've had their loved ones go trailing after aliens and dashing captains and rabid pepper-pots and what not." He looked at Jack with mock seriousness. "Think Gwen's SO would join?"

"Just what we need," said Jack sarcastically. "Mickey Smith, psychologist."


End file.
